


The Forge | Jared/Jensen, RPS AU | NC-17

by meus_venator



Series: The Iron Ridge Pack 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: A/B/O, AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, BAMF!Jensen, Bighorn Rez, Branding, Bureau of Werewolf Affairs, Dystopia, Full Shift Werewolves, Hunter Division, Iron Ridge Pack, J2 werewolves, Jensen!Whump, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Marshal!Jensen, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Violence, Werewolf Rez, Werewolves, Werewolves Reservation, Whipping, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 106,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meus_venator/pseuds/meus_venator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Federal Marshal, werewolf hunter, and now, turned were, Jensen Ackles is on leave of absence from the Hunter Division, part of The Bureau of Werewolf Affairs. Struggling to reconcile the incompatible sides of his nature, the Hunter and the predator, he refuses to hunt those who are now his own kind. But before he can turn in his badge, he’s called in to hunt down a were. There are no easy solutions, and he will have to travel into the heart of darkness, the Hunters' Bureau itself, to discover who his enemies are, and what friends remain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Forge — The Tribunal

**Author's Note:**

> : : :
> 
>  **Title:** [**The Forge** — **Book Two of the Iron Ridge Pack 'Verse**](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/94567.html)  
>  **Author:** [](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/)**meus_venator**  
>  **Artist:** [](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/)**liliaeth**  
>  **Beta:** [](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/profile)[**fufaraw**](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/) and [](http://maryjo24.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://maryjo24.livejournal.com/)**maryjo24**  
>  **Genre:** SPN RPS, AU, A/B/O  
>  **Pairings:** Jensen/Jared  
>  **Characters:**  
>  Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Jim Beaver, Steve Williams, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Taylor Cole, Tyler Johnston, Samantha Ferris, Osric Chau, Timothy Omundson, Misha Collins, Alaina Huffman, and Gabriel Tigerman  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings, kinks & contents:** AU, A/B/O, dark!fic, knotting, shifting, graphic depictions of torture and violence (Note: there are flags in the story where these happen), branding, whipping, rape/non-con, Jensen whump, kidnap, alternate AU, dystopian AU, brief instance of switching, BAMF!Jensen, BAMF!Jared. Please do not read if any of these give you pause.  
>  **Length:** 102k  
>  **Written for:** [](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/)**spn_j2_bigbang** **2015**  
>  **Note:** This story was inspired by a prompt **[](http://marilena172.livejournal.com/profile)[**marilena172**](http://marilena172.livejournal.com/) ** submitted for the 2013 [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_j2_xmas**](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/) **Gift Exchange**. I wrote the first prompt, but when it looked like the story was going to take longer to finish I switched to a different prompt and ended up writing [**Snow Falling**](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/52933.html), for her. But I always wanted to go back and finish the first story. My 2014 [](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_j2_bigbang**](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/), [**The Thaw**](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/67191.html) was that story. It now continues in [](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/94289.html)**The Forge**.
> 
> [Master Post on LJ](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/94567.html) || [**Art Post**](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/480496.html) | **~~  
> ~~**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>    
> : : :

: : :

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
**||[Master Post on LJ](https://meus-venator.dreamwidth.org/88413.html%0A)** ||

Intent on his target, Jensen took a tentative step out of the shadow of the trees, his breath turning to mist in the chill night air. The snow’s crust glittered like diamonds in the moonlight as he took another step forward. A loud cracking groan was all the warning he got before the upper layer gave way under his weight, dropping him down a foot or two into the softer snow beneath. Wincing, he immediately looked up, checking on his prey. Unfazed by the noise, the buck continued to nibble on the delicate tree limbs, chewing contentedly.

 

Jared's shaggy head was silhouetted in moonlight as he eased in beside Jensen through the shattered crust, his tread careful, a glint of concern in the side-eye he threw Jensen. He knew Jensen’s reluctance to kill, had even tried to talk him out of doing this.

It was only Jensen’s wolf, practically quivering with excitement that was completely on board with the idea, nearly quivering in excitement as it tracked the buck. Wolf yearned to hunt, track and run down his prey, experience the quick snap of the deer’s neck under his powerful jaws, all of that was hardwired into his brain. Jensen wrinkled his nose in distaste, he was sick to death of killing, had done more than his fair share of it as a human. But for Wolf this was still undiscovered country, the impulse to kill, shedding blood still shiny and bright and hot on the tongue. Maybe that was the difference between a predator and a man, a man could learn to know better. It was only the idea of disappointing Jeff that had drawn him out this cold and snowy night to sharpen his hunting and tracking skills, to bring in a kill. The pack’s second and possible future alpha had to be a blooded warrior, skilled in hunting more than their own kind on two legs, but also able to defend and protect on four.

Steeling his nerve, Jensen gauged the distance between him and the buck. Only twenty yards, he could be there in three strides, do this, finish this. He crouched on his haunches, muscles coiled and readying to strike, when a dark blur tore past him.

Jared.

His mate’s large body streaked toward the buck, yipping in warning.

Jensen snarled.

This was his hunt. _His _.__

Resentment burned through him and Jensen shot through the air, barreling into his mate, sending them both tumbling in the snow.

The buck reared, its sharp hooves carving the frozen air above their heads, before it whirled, vaulted over a fallen log, white tail disappearing into the velvet black of the woods. Jensen snarled, rage like molten lava scalding him as he watched his prey escape. His jaws snapped down on Jared’s shoulder, the taste of blood quick to flood his mouth, staining Jared’s sable fur blue black in the moonlight. Jared whimpered, trapped beneath Jensen, his forelegs pawing uselessly at the snow. He tried to turn, to bare his throat to his alpha in submission but Jensen only dug his teeth in deeper, rising on all fours to toss his mate like a rag doll before finally flinging his body aside. Several feet in the air, Jared’s body slammed against a tree truck before he tumbled to the ground.

Stunned, Jared lay sprawled in the snow, a long, dark outline in the moonlight.

Anger and betrayal still sparking through him, Jensen stalked toward his mate, a low trembling growl issuing form his slavering lips, anger mixed with humiliation and fury pumping through him as surely as the blood in his veins.

In obvious pain, Jared rolled to his back, exposing his belly, and whimpered. The air hummed with energy and the sable outline blurred and reformed, leaving the long-limbed, bloody form of a naked man in its place.

“Jensen please, please... I was trying to save you, I’m sorry. Jensen please…”

Jensen growled and padded through the bloodstained snow to stand over his mate. No omega of his was going to control him.

Through the blood red haze of rage, Wolf’s confusion invaded his thoughts. This was mate, Wolf did not hurt mate. Jensen shoved Wolf aside and smiled down into his mate’s fearful face one last time before he leapt.

 

 

Jensen jolted up in bed with a gasp, heart pounding, his body bathed in sweat. Beside him Jared jerked to wakefulness.

“Jen. Jensen, you okay? Did it happen again?” Jared’s long hand snaked out to touch Jensen’s bicep. In the darkness, Jared’s warm touch burned. Jensen jerked back as if stung.

“Don’t. Just, don’t. Don’t touch me.” Jensen rolled to sitting, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, with a snarling jerk when one leg became tangled in the covers.

“Hey, calm down,” Jared cautioned as he tried to help.

Jensen rounded on him, canines suddenly filling his mouth, his alpha voice reverberating in the room. “I said, don’t touch me.”

Jared recoiled, eyes wide, his hand falling limply to the covers. Even in the darkness Jensen could see the stunned hurt and confusion on his mate’s face. Tearing free of the last of the covers, Jensen snatched his track pants from the floor and jammed his feet into them, yanked them up. His instinct was to run, leave this room, leave this farmhouse, the yard, leave and break loose, break free, turn into the sleek, invulnerable killing machine that was his wolf. To run until the panicked pounding of his heart finally burst. At least then he’d be at peace, wouldn’t have to feel anymore, wouldn’t try to blame.

Restlessly, he raked his hands through his hair and looked up at the moonlight washed ceiling, a wolf chasing his own tail. What was he going to do? Where could this possibly go that was good? With no ready answers, his shoulders slumped in defeat, Jensen headed toward the bedroom door.

“I need some air. I’m going to go get a drink, clear my head. Don’t wait up.” He didn’t look back at his mate. Didn’t want to see Jared curled in on himself at the head of the antique bed they’d picked out together. Didn’t want to see the look of worry on his mate's face. Jensen stalked from the room in silence.

: : :

He took another careful sip from his tumbler, the solid weight warm in his hand. He was sitting in his favorite club chair in the living room, staring into the fire he’d reluctantly poked back to life. It had been rather cathartic jabbing at the smoldering embers, forcing them to stir and sullenly awaken. With each thrust of the poker sparks began to fly and flames licked hungrily at the log and dry tinder he’d added, fueling a renewed dance of destruction. A dance that scarily mirrored the turmoil within his own thoughts.

Wolf might be able to stroll around on an icy winter’s night, but Jensen’s frailer human skin was scant protection against it. He’d sat there in the darkness and chill until his skin pebbled from the cold and his nipples started to ache, trying not to think. Although there was some kind of satisfaction in making himself suffer, the frosty night had finally forced his hand, and now he sat in front of a blazing inferno deliberately avoiding the one within his own mind.

He was working on his third, sense numbing, glass of brandy when he scented Jared’s arrival.

He didn’t need to look up to know his mate was leaning against the doorframe, watching him. The whisper of silk told him Jared was wearing his favorite dressing gown, the one Jensen had got him when he first agreed to move in. The robe was light jade, with little pink lanterns hung from scattered black branches, overlaid by a swirl of pink and white petals, as if blown on the wind. It had reminded him of Jared: free spirited, beautiful, exotic, and a little mysterious.

 

“Jen…Hey, you okay?”

Jensen blinked at the question, his grip tightening on the half empty glass in his hand.

“The dreams, you’ve been having them on and off for weeks now, ever since I moved in. Do you…want me to leave?”

He could hear the hitch in Jared’s voice and shame darkened Jensen’s cheeks. Biting his lip, he shook his head no. This was a conversation they weren’t having, couldn’t have because he only came out of it feeling petty and resentful, still punishing his mate for his own inability to man up and take what had happened to him in stride. Instead, he took another sip from his glass and wearily pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to fend off the headache that was building.

“Then what can I do? These dreams must have something to do with me, you never mentioned having them before. This barely controlled rage you feel when you wake… don’t deny it. I can feel it through our bond – why can’t you talk to me about it? We talk about everything else.”

Jensen heard rather than saw Jared move further into the room.

“That terrible anger, that fury… I know it’s directed toward me. And the dreams keep getting worse. You can’t just bury this, Jensen, it’s not working. Now that you actually have time to process what you’ve been through, your body is reacting to the things your mind is suppressing. You need to let yourself feel, let some of this out, and deal with it.”

Jared stepped closer, the soft creak of the floor loud in the room, quiet except for the crackle of the flames. Jared’s fingers fluttered like wounded birds above Jensen's shoulder, not quite daring to touch, finally coming to rest on the back of the club chair, near enough that Jensen could feel the heat off his skin. Jared always ran so hot to Jensen’s cold.

When he spoke again, Jared’s voice sounded wrecked, his fingers clenched down on the leather in a punishing grip. “I think I know what this is about, and we’ve…we’ve never really discussed it. But we need to, because it’s tearing you apart.”

Jensen sat, barely able to breathe, his heart like a hummingbird beating double time in his chest. “Jay, man, please, can we just leave it be? I’m fine, there’s just a lot going on in my head right now. I think I’m messed up about going to the Tribunal tonight. After we’re over that hump, I’m sure this will all go away.”

Jared’s voice was so faint Jensen had to strain to hear his answer. “I don’t think it will. Not until we face it head on. And I think you know that.”

“Jesus! Jay, seriously. Just some bad dreams.”

With deliberate calm, Jensen tossed back the last of his drink. “I’m nervous about what kind of judgment Jeff will pass on Winters and Foldbrook. I’m still a Marshall, even though I’m also a Were, and I don’t know if I can stand and watch them be tried outside a court of law, even if they get what’s coming to them.”

His robe rustled softly as Jared moved, uncomfortable. Jensen plunged ahead, cutting off Jared’s unvoiced concerns, “Yes, I know Jeff is my Alpha. Damn it I feel it in my bones, but I can’t promise to just stand there and do nothing as I may have to watch men die. So please, don’t make a federal case out of a dream when all of this is going on. Sometimes a bad dream is just a bad dream.”

Jensen could almost feel Jared’s eyes burning a hole as he watched him in the darkness. He knew the younger were was unconvinced, and he could feel Jared’s hesitation through the bond. But there was some relief when Jared finally replied.

“All right, I’ll let it go for now, but I hate seeing you suffering like this. After the Tribunal, maybe I can find someone you can talk to about what you’ve been through, or we can talk to them together, if you prefer?”

“Jared please!” Jensen’s hand tightened on the now empty tumbler and the glass suddenly shattered into a million pieces.

Jensen flinched when a piece of glass caught him on the chin. He looked down in shocked surprise at the jagged pieces sticking out of his hand, blood starting to well from all the cuts.

“My God, you’re bleeding.” Jared rushed toward him, grabbed his hand, and tugged him toward the kitchen. “We have to get the glass out before it heals over.”

Grabbing his bottle of brandy, Jensen allowed himself to be pulled into the next room.

Jared turned the tap on full blast and shoved Jensen’s bleeding hand under the running water, the force of it washing loose some of the smaller pieces of glass. Jensen watched in fascination while, as his mate had predicted, the skin started to heal almost immediately.

“Keep the water on it,” Jared ordered before running out of the kitchen. Jensen could hear the thump of his footsteps as he took the stairs two at a time, returning quicker than Jensen would have imagined with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a couple of towels, and a pair of tweezers.

Jared flicked on the lights as he tore into the room. Jensen was left blinking in the sudden brightness as Jared eased his hand onto the clean towel. Jared grabbed up the peroxide. “Hold on, I want to make sure it’s clean.” He doused the collection of cuts with a liberal splash of the disinfectant.

Jensen bared his teeth at the bright sting, but managed not to growl.

“Sorry. This is going to hurt, but better now than once it's healed over.” Jared’s hand was firm and warm where his fingers circled Jensen’s forearm, bracing it to hold it still. He started to pick at the pieces of glass still embedded in Jensen’s hand.

Jensen watched in Zen-like fascination as his mate methodically dug out each and every sliver of glass. As he worked, Jared rubbed his thumb against Jensen’s forearm in what Jensen was sure was an unconscious effort to calm him. Doggedly, Jared continued to douse Jensen’s hand with peroxide, causing the nearly invisible smaller cuts to froth and bubble, showing Jared where to tweeze. He tried to hurry, knowing that the smaller, harder to grasp pieces would heal over more quickly, leaving the larger, readily visible ones until the end. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but a quick shot of brandy helped dull the pain.

Nearly finished, Jared washed the wound again with disinfectant, bringing Jensen’s hand to eye level to inspect it carefully. In the bright light of the kitchen, Jensen was captivated by the swirling mix of blue and green in Jared’s eyes. The pink tip of his mate’s tongue teasingly visible as he concentrated on a final inspection of the wound before deciding he was done. Maybe it was the booze talking – Jensen was learning it was hard to get a were drunk – but the earnest look of concentration on Jared’s face did more to loosen Jensen’s tightly wound nerves than anything else he had tried that night.

“I think I got all of it. Do you feel anything?”

Jensen glanced at his hand. It was already almost completely healed. He flexed his fingers carefully, but there were no sharp twinges from any remaining embedded glass.

As Jensen stared down at his hand, Jared plucked a rather large shard out of Jensen’s chin. Jensen’s gaze flicked up at him in time to see his mate nod and lick his lips nervously.

Jensen gave Jared a lopsided grin, crowding up against his mate, trapping him against the edge of the kitchen counter before leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

Jared froze in his arms.

“What should I be feeling?” Jensen whispered teasingly into his mate’s ear.

Jared let out a shuddered breath as Jensen pressed a series of light kisses down the column of his neck and against the hollow of his throat. The scent of Jared’s arousal tickled at Jensen’s nose.

“Well hopefully, not shooting stabs of pain,” Jared answered, leaning back so he could look into Jensen’s face, his eyes wide and vulnerable, a hopeful look on his features.

Jensen had to squash the surge of guilt that welled up inside him, he could only move forward and reassure his mate in deeds, not hollow words. “Do shooting sparks count?” Jensen hummed, pulling Jared closer and pressing their mouths together again, chasing the delicious taste of ‘mate’. Jared jerked in anxious reflex, and then Jensen was kissing, and kissing him back, Jared’s mouth slipped open, warm and sloppy, and Jensen’s tongue slid inside.

Tenderly, Jensen ran the knuckles of his healed hand along Jared’s cheek. Finally breaking off the kiss, he gazed into the lust blown pupils of his mate’s eyes. Jared’s mouth hung open, empty and wanton and Jensen couldn’t help but to slip two of his fingers inside. Jared suckled on them immediately, like some obscene treat. His head lolled back, eyelids fluttering shut, lost in sensation as Jensen continued to thrust them in and out of his mate’s mouth, shamelessly mimicking the act of mating. The bond between them sizzled.

Jensen watched, mesmerized, as his spit slick fingers disappeared in and out of the sweet O of Jared’s pink lips. His cock fattened. Rocking himself against Jared’s thigh, he murmured, “I’m sorry I’ve been such a moody bastard. I’ll try and be better. I think what I really need is something to help me sleep until the Tribunal tomorrow tonight.” Knowing he was fighting dirty, Jensen cupped Jared’s growing erection with his free hand, palming it through the soft silk of his robe.

Jared’s eyelids dazedly flicked open and Jensen slipped his fingers out of Jared’s mouth, sliding them down, slick and wet, to cup his mate’s jaw.

Empty, Jared’s mouth continued to open and close wetly, like a suckling babe's, and all Jensen could imagine was those pink lips wrapped around his cock. Jared’s voice was husky and raw when he finally managed words. “I might know of something that will help you sleep.” Jared tilted his head coyly, purposefully rutting his rock hard erection into Jensen’s palm, before he shivered and backed out of the cage of Jensen’s arms. His tip-tilted eyes were at half mast, as he flicked the kitchen lights off and caught Jensen by the hand, tugging him toward the stairs.

“You do, huh?” Jensen smiled as he allowed his mate to pull him up the stairs to their bedroom, dragging him away from the darkness and his own shrouded thoughts.

 

The trial began under the glow of the half moon. The Tribunal members met on the stage just after sunset. A line of torches that ringed the small clearing, as well as a larger bonfire in the center of the field before the stage, had been lit as the adult members of the pack slowly gathered. The whole pack was present except for the three betas and one aging omega assigned to watch the children, and to keep them well away from the proceedings.

Typical of early February, the snow still lay heavy on the ground, but the bitter cold didn’t bother the group gathered there that evening. Jensen gazed around, curious what exactly would transpire here this night. His lip curled in an unconscious snarl as he looked at the low stage. He hadn’t been back to this small clearing in the woods just outside the Iron Ridge Pack settlement since the night of his forced mating run.

He had to tamp down the flashes of memory, the fear and anger looking at the stage brought on. He could still see dark stains on the wood: blood, his and who knew how many countless others'. Shuddering, he concentrated on the four judges now sitting in ornately carved wooden chairs on the low stage while Morgan, the fifth judge, stepped forward to address the pack. Jensen, as one of the victims involved in the hearing, stood at the front of the crowd with Jared, facing the stage and off to Morgan’s right.

“Tonight we gather to present the findings of the Tribunal. We have spent the last few months investigating numerous offences and violations carried out under Alpha Pellegrino’s reign. As your new alpha, I am here to tell you that many things that went on during his rule will no longer be tolerated.” Morgan’s alpha voice swelled and filled the gathering place. The air hummed, energized in the tepid yellow glow of the half moon, as their Alpha claimed their rapt attention.

“We live in civilized times, and will treat each other accordingly. I tell you now as your Alpha, that the Iron Ridge Pack will not backslide to the old ways. Anyone who disagrees can challenge me now.”

Jensen heard some weres whine, but most simply bowed their heads in submission as Morgan stared sternly out at his pack.

Jensen hadn’t known what to expect from a werewolf Tribunal. It was another side of pack life that had been a complete mystery to the hunter’s bureau. At first he had worried that the Tribunal was just for show, or rigged, but Jared had assured him he had nothing to worry about, that the real work of the Tribunal had been going on for months, since Morgan took over as Alpha. The four judges Morgan appointed had investigated the mountain of complaints and accusations against Pellegrino’s cohorts during the previous alpha’s tenure. The offenses had been heinous. As the evidence mounted, Morgan had the worst of the offenders rounded up and incarcerated in the pack’s jail to await judgment.

Tonight’s gathering was the final stage of the Tribunal, where the panel of weres, including Morgan, presented all their findings to the pack. The verdicts for all the accused had already been roughly determined by the Tribunal, but tonight the accused or any of their supporters would have a chance to speak in their defense, to try and sway the judges' decision.

It wasn’t quite democracy, but it was pretty progressive in a pack system that for hundreds of years had declared their next alpha by prowess in combat. Jensen was impressed that two of the panel members were betas, senior female members of the pack. As a thought dawned, he tugged on his mate’s hand, whispering in what he hoped was a quiet enough tone to reach only Jared’s ear, “Why aren’t there any omegas on the Tribunal?”

Jared had leaned in, a warm tickle of breath on Jensen’s ear as he spoke, “The Iron Ridge Pack only has five omegas, including me. Some are way too young to even be here tonight. Don’t worry, we aren’t being slighted, believe me. Morgan’s done a great job of representing pack dynamics. Pellegrino wouldn't have included betas on his council, or even had a Tribunal. This is more like the pack I grew up in, and I’m glad to have things back to normal.” Jared gazed around at the gathered crowd, “I know a lot of people feel the same way. No one liked Pellegrino’s caveman tactics. When he swept in as Alpha and shoved everyone’s rights aside, it took us all by surprise. I don’t think any of us saw it coming.”

Jensen had nodded, he could see exactly how that could happen. With Alpha Goodall being such a well respected leader, the pack had expected more of the same good stewardship from his successor. By the time they realized that wasn’t the case, it was too late, Pellegrino had already surrounded himself with enforcers and goons and ruled the pack by bullying and intimidation.

“We will start with our first offender,” Morgan’s voice rose in volume, and Jensen caught his first look at the youngish man the guards were bringing out to stand in front of the stage. His wrists were bound in silver lined cuffs, shirt and jeans ragged and torn, feet bare. Fear radiated off the man as he was yanked to a stop before the Tribunal. Morgan continued, “John Michaels, you are charged with the following offences…” The heavy hands of the guards pressed down on his shoulders and Michaels was forced to kneel in the snow before the tribunal.

One of the Tribunal members strode to the front of the stage, a thick folder in her hands, and started to present the evidence to the pack from their investigation into Michaels’ actions. Listening to her, Jensen had to admit the tribunal was thorough; they could put a lot of cops to shame.

The list of offences was depressingly long, ranging from theft and extortion to the charges of assault, destruction of private property and kidnapping, for his part on the night Jensen was taken and his cabin burned to the ground.

After the beta completed her recitation, Morgan stepped before the kneeling man, and the stage. Using his alpha voice he asked, “Do you deny any of these charges?” Michaels’ body clenched in reaction, and immediately shook his head, saying nothing, but with grief and remorse clearly visible on his face.

Morgan asked the four judges on the stage, “Do any of the Tribunal have questions for the accused?” When the tribunal only shook their heads no, Morgan turned to the watching pack. “Does anyone here have something to add, or wish to speak for the accused?”

Only one member of the pack had spoken up.

It was John Michaels’ mother, Vivian, who had pleaded mercy for the young man, who had fallen in with Pellegrino’s crew after her husband had suffered a heart attack, and they had needed extra money to keep the farm going.

Morgan looked at Michaels, “So you’re saying you had no other choice but to break the law and dishonor the pack?”

Michaels hung his head in shame shaking his head ‘no’. Morgan looked down at him, gaze inscrutable in the firelight, his voice a deep rumble when he said, “Good. At least you don’t further insult us with lies.” Relief radiated off Michaels as he cringed in his bonds, head still bowed.

“Very well then. John Michaels, we hereby find you guilty of all charges. For your crimes you will be given one hundred lashes and three years’ probation. The first fifty lashes to be given out tonight, the rest a week from now at this same time and location. We have taken into account your age and your mother’s testimony. If you dishonor the pack again, the verdict will not be so lenient. Punishment will commence at the end of these proceedings. Do you accept the Tribunal’s pronouncement?”

Michaels had curled forward, bowing before the tribunal and spoke for the first time. The man’s whole body had started to shake, but to Jensen’s surprise it was in relief not anger. “Yes, Alpha. I accept this tribunal’s punishment, and thank you for your mercy.”

Jensen leaned in close to Jared. “Why does he look so relieved? He’s going to get a hundred lashes, that would kill an ordinary man.”

Jared looked at Jensen’s his eyes dark, “Because it’s far better than the alternative. He could have been shunned.”

Jensen was stopped from asking more when Morgan called up the next offender.

Things had gone fairly similarly for the next five men, with the Tribunal asking only a few questions. And, the judgment against Michaels did seem lenient by comparison to the sentences of the other five, some requiring three visits back to the meeting area to receive their full sentence. By the end, six men knelt in a row before the stage. Morgan nodded and guards began to cut the shirts from the men’s bodies and pulled the first man in line, Michaels, to his feet. He was led to a wooden cross set up near the edge of the clearing. While everyone in the pack watched, two large, burly alphas wearing black facemasks that obscured their identity, stepped forward to assist. One helped the two guards secure Michaels to an x-shaped wooden cross while the other uncoiled a long, well-oiled bullwhip.

With a practiced motion, the man laid a few strokes on a cord of firewood stacked a few yards to the right of the cross. Jensen’s jaw tightened as the whip struck, and chunks of wood flew. From the glint at the end of the whip, Jensen knew it was tipped with silver. A whip like that could slice a man to pieces in no time. Jensen questioned if a were could even could survive such a beating. As a human he wasn’t sure he approved of corporal punishment, but, coming to terms with the physicality of his wolf self and the dynamics of the pack, it seemed like the guilty would require more than a firm talking to. Jared had quietly reassured him this was the only way the pack could keep order.

The wind picked up and a swirl of blowing snow obscured Michaels for a moment. When Jensen could see him clearly again, the man’s naked back was exposed to the crowd and his normally coppery skin had blanched ashen white from cold and fear.

“Who are the guys in the batman masks?” Jensen murmured.

Jared wrinkled his nose and grimaced, whispering furtively in Jensen’s ear. “They’re called the ‘Punishers’. The Tribunal put out a call for two Punishers, and they come in from a neighboring pack.”

Jensen’s eyes widened in surprise and respect. It was an effective system when dealing with small, interrelated communities where grudges could last for years, but his surprise came from the casual mention of networked packs. This was the first he'd heard of any organized packs other than his own. He filed this tidbit of information away for later discussion.

The dull crack of the heavy whip contacting bare flesh brought Jensen’s attention back to the cross. The were wielding the whip knew what he was about, and laid an even pattern across Michaels’ back, while the second punisher counted out each stroke. When he couldn’t take the sight of the punishment any longer, he turned his head, leaving him to suffer only the sounds of his pain, the dull wet slap of the lash, the guttural grunts and screams. Glancing over to see how his mate was faring he watched in fascination and a little horror as Jared’s pupils dilated when the first drop of blood hit the snow.

Once thirty or so lashes had been laid down, there were no clear areas on the man’s back left to strike, and blood was everywhere. Even the were’s superhuman healing ability couldn’t keep up with the blows. The Punisher had to stop several times to clean the blood off the braided leather.

When they were finished, the unconscious man was cut down, falling in the snow like a puppet with cut strings, and carried off the field by family or friends. The two Punishers then traded places, as the next offender was walked to the whipping post, and the whole scene was played out again.

Morgan had walked over to stand with Jensen and Jared for a while as the punishments were doled out. When the second were was brought to the post Morgan murmured in Jensen’s ear, “It’s a matter of honor that a were be able to walk to his own punishment, the bravest even facing the lash without bonds.”

Jensen couldn’t imagine walking up to that cross under his own steam to be whipped, especially for the second round of the sentence just seven days from now, but he could see the logic in it, the first step toward redeeming yourself in the eyes of the pack.

Time seemed to both race and drag as, one after another, the offending weres took their place at the cross, and night began to turn into day. Jensen had seen men hurt before, seen them beaten to within an inch of their lives, but never with the raw brutality of the Punishers. The hard, wet snap of whip on flesh, turning men’s skin to shredded pulp, turned his stomach. He didn’t think it was his imagination when he saw the white of bone showing along a rib cage after one particularly brutal stroke. The healing abilities of the men’s weres were pushed to the limit as stroke after stroke rained down like hellfire on vulnerable flesh.

In spite of the gusting winds, the smell of blood was thick in the air. The pack had grown restless by the time the eastern sky started to lighten. Jensen’s nose twitched, he could almost taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue, and his Wolf rose close to his skin. Wolf’s approval at what was transpiring was evident as he brushed his soft fur against his insides, but all Jensen could focus on was the stink of fear coming off each man in turn as they were brought forward for punishment. Some screamed, some groveled and begged for mercy, some managed to remain silent for the entire sentence. All had to be carried away.

The sun had fully risen by the time all six sentences had been handed out. A ring of lurid, red stained ground circled the foot of cross, like some kind of ancient rune or sigil in the snow. Suddenly sickened by it all, Jensen swayed, exhausted, numbed by the unaccustomed screams and blood, and the stress of so many weres present. Sensing his distress, Jared crowded in closer, wrapping a supporting arm around his waist. Wearily, Jensen allowed himself to lean into his comforting hold.

When the last two prisoners were finally called before the tribunal, there was a hot, anxious twist in the pit of Jensen's stomach. He forced himself to ease out of Jared’s comforting embrace and stand straight. He glanced at his mate and Jared gave him what he meant to be a reassuring smile. Jensen knew his own lips were pressed into a thin, terse line.

Jensen flinched when Jared’s large, warm hand reached out and covered his, squeezing before lacing his fingers tightly between Jensen’s. There was an unfamiliar tingle and with a shuddering breath, Jensen’s eyelids fluttered closed as strength poured into him through the bond. Blinking, Jensen opened his eyes. It was like rising from the bottom of a deep, dark lake and coming up for air into the light. Energized by Jared’s gift, he squeezed his mate’s hand gratefully.

The sun was gaining strength and the ring of torches around the clearing had been allowed to gutter out, as the guards led Foldbrook and Winters to kneel in the packed snow in front of the stage. Unlike the others who were merely handcuffed, the hands of these two were tightly shackled to a loop of chain cinched around their waist. Two guide chains connected to each prisoner’s waist chain, the other ends held tightly by the guards closely bracketing each prisoner. Like the prisoners before them, silver in the bonds prevented them from shifting at will. There was no chance of a last minute dash to freedom.

Also unlike the others, the two were charged together. Mercifully for Jensen, he had not been required to testify. Another member of the tribunal had outlined the circumstances of his kidnapping and rape as factually as possible, along with numerous other instances of beatings and abuse carried out by the pair in Pellegrino’s name. The list of their combined offenses was longer than that of all six men before them. When Morgan stepped to the front of the stage his expression was grim, the verdict when he read it out loud to the pack was shunning, for both of them.

There was dead silence in the little clearing as the punishment was pronounced.

Jensen glanced over at Jared in puzzlement, hoping for an explanation of the sentence, but Jared’s expression was frozen in obvious horror. Many of the pack members had that same shell-shocked expression on their faces, and Winters had gone deathly pale. He began to beg and plead, and when that didn’t work he turned and lunged toward Jared and Jensen, his face distorted by bitterness. Instinctively, Jensen stepped in front of Jared, hands raised in front of him as claws began to morph from his fingertips. The guards caught Winters long before he could reach Jensen, and dragged him back into position in front of the tribunal.

Winters continued his non-stop stream of vitriol. “You, you did this to me, you bastard! If it weren’t for you, everything would be fine and Pellegrino would be leading this pack like he should have, instead of this weakling, Morgan. You and your pitiful omega! You think you’re better than me! I’ll get you for this, Marshal. I’ll destroy everything you love.” Unable to shut Winters up, the guards had finally been forced to gag the man. Foldbrook, in contrast, knelt in mute horror.

After the verdict had been announced, one of the Punishers stepped forward and thrust two brands into the fire that still burned in front of the stage. The other Punisher, along with several members of the pack, carried in a large log and set it down beside the fire. Guards dragged Winters to the log and laid him over it, chaining his hands and feet to rings placed on either side. His jeans were swiftly cut from his body, leaving him naked in the firelight.

The silence from the gathered crowd continued as the fire crackled and the brands began to glow red. The Punisher pushed the heavy pieces of iron deeper into the fire, checking and turning them occasionally. When both finally glowed a steady red, he nodded at the second punisher, standing at Winters’ side. Winters' gag was removed and he immediately began to babble, promising anything to stop this from happening as the punishers held him down.

Jensen could hear Foldbrook’s blubbery whimpers as the punisher pulled one glowing hot brand from the embers. When he carefully pressed it into Winters’ right hip, the screams that filled the trees turned Jensen’s stomach. Finally satisfied that he had a good clean brand, the punisher pulled the hot metal away, dragging burnt flesh with it.

Jensen’s gorge threatened to rise as the stink filled his nose. Jared squeezed his hand and sent steadying thoughts through their bond. Swallowing repeatedly, Jensen managed not to embarrass himself, once again reminded what a good decision he had made, inviting his Jared fully into his life.

The acrid stench of urine joined that of charred skin.

Jensen looked over at the last remaining were set to stand judgment that night, noting the growing stain on Foldbrook’s pants. Held between two burly alphas, Foldbrook looked smaller than the last time Jensen had seen him, diminished before the Tribunal, awaiting his own punishment. His incarceration these last few months as Morgan conducted his investigation had taken its toll.

The other punisher shook a canister above the wound, sending a fine layer of sparkling dust over the brand on the man’s hip. Winters screamed in agony as the dust settled on the wound.

“The silver embeds itself into the healing flesh of the brand,” Jared whispered in Jensen's ear, “The scar will be permanent, even when he shifts.”

The punisher shook another coat of the silver dust over the brand and Winters continued to writhe and scream. Morgan began to speak again, “Nathan Winters, you have been found guilty by the tribunal for your crimes of kidnapping, rape, torture, and endangering the pack. Your punishment for those crimes is expulsion from the Iron Ridge Pack. By this mark you will be known as a felon, and shunned by all of werekind. You will find no refuge, for you have proven yourself unworthy of pack. You will leave now and take nothing with you. You have until sunset to be gone from our lands, or you will be hunted down and killed.”

The Punishers freed Winters from his bonds and shoved him off to the side, leaving him sprawled half conscious on the snow as they chained Foldbrook in his place.

  
[  
](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/94289.html)


	2. The Forge — A Whisper of Silk

 

 

 

With the men’s screams still echoing in Jensen’s head, the drive back to the farm was unusually somber. He glanced at Jared. He could see his mate’s solemn face reflected in the glass, seeming lost in his own thoughts as the snowy expanse of mountains and trees flew by, never-ending in the wake of their exhaust.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could sleep for a week after that. Talk about intense.”

Jared grunted noncommittally.

“What will happen to them now, do you think?”

Jared didn’t turn his head, simply spoke into the glass. “There hasn’t been a shunning in the pack for over thirty years, but my guess is they’ll run as hard and as fast as they can and try to make it out of Iron Ridge territory before the sun sets. Morgan will have sent a couple of his lieutenants to follow them and make sure they leave.”

“What about their possessions, their homes, their trucks…stuff.”

Jared shrugged, his teeth catching at his bottom lip before replying. “Anything useful will be divided amongst the community. Everything else will be trashed.”

Jensen darted another glance at Jared, “And what happens if they come back?”

“If either of them steps foot on Iron Ridge pack lands again they will be put to death. That goes for any other pack that sees their marks, they won’t be welcome in any other pack territory, either.”

Jensen blew out a shocked breath. “Whoa!”

He’d tracked and captured or killed a few weres with markings like those in the past, but he hadn’t understood the significance of the brand. Though he was only beginning to appreciate the social aspect of pack life: the structure, the connection weres felt to fellow pack members, the desire to be amongst their own kind, and the very physicality of were life... he couldn’t imagine suddenly being expelled from that. Whatever the men might have done to deserve it, their shunning hadn’t been a cakewalk for any of them. All had been embittered and vicious.

Though all of them had probably been most deserving of some kind of punishment, Jensen wasn’t so sure being shut off from all connection to their own race hadn’t twisted them into something far worse. But with the free were communities living essentially in hiding he was sure resources to deal with offenders was limited. It was a no win situation all around. With new understanding of what he had done obliviously in the past, Jensen wondered what had happened to the shunned weres he’d turned over to the Rez. It couldn't have been good.

In need of a little comforting touch himself, he reached out to take Jared’s hand. Jared flinched in surprise when Jensen first touched him, then relaxed and let Jensen lace his fingers though Jared’s larger ones. Jensen’s thumb rubbed absently on the side of Jared’s palm as he tried not to think too much about the events at the Tribunal.

 

It was afternoon by the time Jensen parked his Rover next to the house. Jared had been quiet most of the trip and had fallen asleep halfway home. Jensen shook his shoulder gently, whispering, “We’re home, baby,” before he swung out of the truck wearily. Leaning on the hood he watched Jared groggily wake and unfold out of the cab. He tapped on the hood announcing, “‘Kay, I’m just going to check on the horses. Meet you back at the house?”

Jared looked guiltily between Jensen and the house. His mouth opened as if to say something.

“Go on, you poured a lot of energy my way, you’re probably more tired than I am. Besides the horses still don’t like you much.” Chuckling softly at their longstanding joke, Jensen waited for some kind of snarky comeback but Jared only rubbed at his eyes and, pushing his hair out of his face, started toward the house, mumbling, “Sure. I’ll put the coffee on.”

The cold wind blew harsh across the open expanse of the yard, and Jensen flicked up his collar as he strode to the barn. Tigger nickered softly as Jensen entered and ambled over to his stall door. Flash, Princess, and Molly soon followed, all vying for his attention. After mucking out the stalls, Jensen doled out oats and checked the feed and water levels in each one, giving each horse an affectionate rub or pat. His family had always had horses. Even after his parents’ death, when he’d gone to live with his grandparents, they’d had some.

As a marshal, Jensen had had little to no contact with horses. It was only now, back on the farm, that he had allowed himself to acknowledge how much he had missed being around them. It had been a challenge getting the Bakers’ retired work horses used to his were scent, but now they were more than comfortable with him, nudging at his hands for the perennial sugar cubes, carrot, or apple he kept in his pockets these days.

He glanced around the old barn, proud of the improvements he’d been able to make before the worst of the winter storms started. It would need a new roof come summer. He wondered if Jared was afraid of heights. It would be a good project for the two of them, working out in the sun, making the old building ready for another forty years’ use.

He had been more than a little relieved when the Bakers had agreed to sell him the old homestead. He hadn’t been sure he could force himself to leave the place. For their part, the Bakers had seemed equally pleased to take up full time residence near their daughter in California, doting on their new twin grandchildren. Fixing up the farm had been satisfying in a way Jensen had never experienced before.

The kidnapping, the mating run, and now the branding and shunning… he almost felt guilty that out of such horrific events so much good had come into his life. Not that it had all been sunbeams and flowers between him and Jared, but he couldn’t imagine life without his mate. He was putting down real roots here, his first since he was a child.

Molly butted her head against his shoulder, and Jensen chuckled. “Sorry girl, lost in thought, I guess.” He patted the old bay as he gave his big girl her oats. It surprised him how little the thought of being mated freaked him out, now. He had been on his own for so long, driven by a thirst for justice, possessed with his mission to spare others from experiencing what he had gone through. But now there was so much more. It was a feeling he’d never expected to have.

Jensen finished up with the horses and headed toward the house, stomping off the excess snow in the mudroom as he stripped off his coat and boots. The smell of Jared Java permeated the house. Smiling in appreciation, Jensen headed for the kitchen, where a fresh pot of coffee was already perked. Jensen poured himself a mug and stood there sipping the potent brew. Not only did he have a great mate, but one who not only understood the importance of coffee, but knew how to brew an awesome cup. Jensen curled his hand around the mug and let the heat penetrate his chilled hands. By the time he finished his first cup, he had started to wonder where Jared had got to.

“Jay man… I’m back. Where are you? Gonna join me?”

Jensen ducked his head into the living room but the downstairs was eerily quiet.

Admittedly it had been a long, exhausting night, and a good part of the next day, maybe Jared had simply gone to bed. Setting his coffee on the kitchen table, Jensen reached out, but couldn't find Jared through the bond. Unease pooled in Jensen’s gut. The only times he couldn’t reach Jared were when his mate was physically out of range of the bond, or when he was blocking. Taking the steps two at a time Jensen dashed up the stairs.

The master bedroom door was closed. Jensen forced himself to calm before easing it open, and stepping inside. Afternoon light poured through the two tall south facing windows and the blue grey room was bathed in a soft glow. Jensen smiled, he loved this cozy little room with its high pitched ceiling and wood floor. Many a morning the sun had blanketed Jared and him as they made love in their big bed. At first he thought Jared might be in the bathroom, until he noticed an arm, barely visible in the large grey duvet, its billowy softness hiding the Jared sized lump in the middle.

His mate had changed clothes. Dressed in soft grey sleep pants and a grey v-neck t-shirt, he lay curled in the bed, his big hands clutching a pillow to his chest. At first Jensen thought he might already be asleep, but a slight rocking of Jared’s body showed he was still very much awake. Jensen sat down on one side, feathering his fingers lightly over Jared’s shoulder. “Jared? Jay, you okay?”

Jared continued to rock, his gaze fixed on the wall.

“Talk to me, Jay. What’s wrong?” Jensen squeezed his mate’s shoulder reassuringly. “I know it’s been a long night and we’ve seen some pretty horrible things… But at least, nobody died.”

Jared mumbled something, and Jensen had to strain to hear. He moved in closer, curling around Jared and pulling his unresisting form into his arms. “What was that, Jay?”

“You can’t understand,” Jared whispered.

“Being shunned? No, I guess I really can’t. I haven’t been a were long enough to really wrap my head around it. I get that.” Jensen conceded. “But they made their own bed, Jay. They were not good men.”

“No, no.” Jared shook his head, his whole body trembling.

“Hey, if you’re worried about me, don’t be. I mean I feel bad for them, but...” Jensen tried to lean in to see Jared’s face, but his mate turned his head into the pillow. His response was muffled, but Jensen still made it out.

“It’s not that. It’s what they did, what I did...”

“What you did? You only tried to protect yourself that day. I did all the fighting.”

Jared turned his head so it wasn’t buried in the pillows and in a broken tone said, “No, the day I claimed you.”

Jensen stiffed in shock as understanding started to dawn.

Forcibly, he rolled an unresisting Jared in his arms so they were face to face, his mate’s face streaked with tears.

“Jesus,” Jensen blinked in surprise, gathering his mate in closer. “Jared, What?...No!”

And all at once Jared was talking, a wall of words bursting out in a frantic, babbling rush. “That could have been me there tonight. Don’t you get it? It could have been me and I would have completely deserved it, I still deserve it. The Punishers should come for me next because I’m no better than them, Michaels, Winters, Foldbrook, no better than any of them.” Jared’s pupils were wide, his face uncharacteristically sickly and pale.

“Jay, what the hell are you talking about?” Jensen stared at his mate in confusion.

Jared pushed himself out of Jensen’s arms to sit up in bed, running his hand distractedly through his hair and gasping, “Because I raped you, too.”

It was like a punch to the gut, and Jensen huffed out a startled breath. He could only look at his mate in horror as the pieces started to lock together.

 

“I — I raped you, and I know that was unforgiveable. And you’ve been hiding how much you hate that I did that to you. At first—well at first, I thought it would be okay, that we would talk, eventually. But then the dreams started and you still wouldn’t bring up the subject.” Jared twisted to look at Jensen, more tears streaming down his face as he shifted his legs under him to kneel facing Jensen. “Do you want me to beg for forgiveness, Jensen? Do you want me on my knees begging you? Because I will, I am. What I did to you was wrong, I freely admit it, but I just—couldn’t...I couldn’t let you die.”

Jensen wanted to cringe, crawl away, cover his ears, anything to avoid hearing the raw pain in Jared’s voice as the words tumbled from his mate's mouth like water from a broken dam. Worse, as Jared’s control faltered the bond between them opened further, allowing Jensen to see his mate’s true pain, like a river of jagged glass. Jensen’s hands tightened on the bedding. He wanted desperately to reach out and comfort his mate, but he held back, not sure his touch would be welcome. Unable to watch his mate in such obvious pain without doing anything to help, he turned to stare blindly out the window, tears pricking at the corner of his own eyes.

“Jay, no, listen, that’s not how it is at all. I...I have been thinking about my rape, but not the one you’re thinking about…it was Winters and Foldbrook. I’ve felt like such a wuss–I mean, what’s a finger up the ass in the grand scheme of things? Heck I’ve had a hell of a lot worse done to me, been beaten black and blue, shot at, left for dead; why should my run in with these two assholes be such a big deal in my head? I don’t get it. Or maybe I do, but I don’t want to.” Jensen grabbed up a pillow beside him, twisting it in his hands until he hoped the seams would break and the stuffing might explode. Throwing it across the room in disgust, he stared morosely out the window. “They made me feel weak, vulnerable, and that’s something I haven’t allowed myself to be since I was a child.”

“No, I won’t do this.” Jared’s voice was strangely firm, and Jensen’s eyes widened in surprise. He could see Jared out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head.

“Don’t lie to me, Jensen. Don’t lie to yourself. I know what they did to you hurt you, but I know you're lying, even now. Why can’t you just tell me the truth? Because what you’re not telling me is eventually going to tear us apart.”

Jensen turned and the look of disappointment on Jared’s face made him quail. Jensen’s gaze slid guiltily to the rumpled bedcovers as he chewed at his lip. “Jay, I…”

“Just stop. Please, just stop.” Jared ran his hands over his eyes, scrubbing at the tears on his cheeks. “I’ll phone Felicia, get her to pick me up and take me back to my place. Thank God I didn’t rent it out, yet.”

Jensen reared up, watching in shock as Jared rose from the bed and strode to the closet. He pulled out the duffel bag he’d used to bring some of his stuff over and started to fling clothes into it in no particular order or care. “I’ll come back while you’re at work to get the rest of my things.”

Stunned, Jensen simply stood there, hands hanging weakly by his side. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast? How had he miscalculated so badly? His head was spinning and his heart twisted in his chest, like he was going to be sick and have a heart attack all at once, Wolf pawing at him from the inside, whining for him to make this right.

When he looked up, Jared had finished packing and stood ramrod straight, strangely calm, with his hand on the doorknob. Jensen looked at him, stricken. He could feel his mate through the bond, taste his resolve, his determination.

Jensen cracked.

“Jared, please. Stop.”

Jared huffed out a breath but his hand let go of the door handle. “The next words out of your mouth had better be some facsimile of the truth or I’m gone, Jensen. I can’t…”

“Hey, okay, I understand, and maybe I am a little mad that you took the choice from me.” Jensen stood and started to pace back and forth in the room. He couldn’t seem to find a place to put his hands and they ended up hanging uselessly at his sides. “I wanted to die, and you wouldn’t let me. You and Wolf…both of you nagging on me when all I wanted was to slip under the water and just be swept away. I was angry at you for a long time about that, but I pushed it down, because I thought you, us…I thought we, were more important than that. But it hasn’t been that easy, Jay. I keep thinking about it when I close my eyes, over and over. About that night, how powerless I was, and it makes me sick.”

Jensen wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered as something black and ugly coiled inside him.

Grimacing, Jared raked his fingers through his hair as he watched Jensen. Finally he shook his head, spreading his arms wide in despair. “But why didn’t you talk to me? Say something? We could talk about it.”

“But can we go on if I do?” Jensen whispered, his voice sounding too vulnerable, even to his own ears. All at once, Jensen shivered, he was cold, so cold. Jared stepped up behind him, suddenly close, pressing himself against Jensen’s back, his arms slipping around his, overlapping. Grateful for the warmth and comfort radiating off his mate, Jensen leaned readily into his embrace.

“Just say it.” Jared whispered, his head nestled against Jensen’s neck, his fingers resting lightly at the nape of his neck.

“I’m afraid.”

Jared’s fingers gently brushed the tears from Jensen’s cheeks. “I’m so afraid, Jay. Afraid if I say it out loud I’ll lose you forever. It’s all messed up. I can’t forgive Winters and Foldbrook for what they did to me, for raping me, and at the same time, I keep trying to tell myself what you did was different. But was it? And if it wasn’t, how will I ever be able to love you?”

The words hung there, stark and ugly. And suddenly he was that lonely little boy holding the social worker’s hand as she took him away to live with his grandparents after his family was killed. Betrayal and resentment washed through him and he was fighting his way out of Jared’s arms and turning, lashing out, swinging at Jared, his fists flying into him again and again.

His first blow caught Jared completely unaware, clipped him on the jaw, and Jared’s head snapped back from the brutal force of it. He tried to grab Jensen, pull him back into his arms to contain his struggles, but Jensen danced away.

“Always underestimate how fast you are,” Jared observed wryly as he wiped the blood from his face. Reluctantly he lowered into a fighter's crouch and the two men started to circle each other. “Bring it on,” Jared goaded.

Rage propelling him, unreasonable and unfathomable, Jensen screamed, striking out again and again at his mate. It was irrational, insane, and Jensen couldn’t stop it, couldn't stop himself. Totally out of control, his swings at Jared became more erratic with every strike, heavy blows meant to punish the man for all the hurt Jensen had endured.

And Jared took it, took the beating, only defending himself enough to deflect the worst of Jensen’s blows. Somewhere under the onslaught of violence, Jensen recognized what his mate was doing and cringed in shame, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to be stopped, and Jensen punched out again at his mate.

He didn’t know who was more relieved, him, or Jared, when he was finally exhausted and staggering, and his mate was able to grab hold of him with those giant hands of his and reel him in, wrapping long arms securely around him, squeezing Jensen tight against his body.

“That’s right Jen, let it all out,” Jared crooned as Jensen continued to struggle, like a fitful child after a tantrum, until all the fight suddenly drained out of him.

Jensen started to cry.

Silently at first, and then with great heaving sobs. Jared held him, held him when he might have otherwise fallen to the floor, a boneless heap. Held him while his heart cracked and broke wide open and the ugly blackness inside spilled out and covered him in sickly dread. And all the while he could feel Jared through the bond, surrounding him with love and reassurance, holding him as securely in his mind as he did with his body.

They stood there for a long time, until Jensen couldn’t cry any more. Weak and completely spent, he realized he was upright only because Jared kept him there. Jared slipped an arm under Jensen’s knees and hefted him up in his arms, a calm compassionate look on his face as he gazed down at Jensen.

“You can’t stop loving me. I won’t let you.” Jared murmured as he kissed Jensen’s snot and tear-encrusted cheek. Jensen hiccupped. Shaky, and colt-like, he let out a wobbling laugh. He was too tired and wrung out to argue with his boy right now, tell him all the ways he was wrong and the dire, terrible path they were headed down. Maybe, if they could survive this, it didn’t matter. Maybe Jared knew better.

Jared shoved the bedcovers aside and tucked Jensen in, spooning his larger body in behind Jensen’s.

Jensen's eyes drifted closed as Jared snuggled up behind him. He couldn’t help but replay the dream in his mind, but this time the emotion seemed bled out of it, the hurt and resentment the dream always brought muted now, the fear and anxiety he’d been holding onto drained away. He’d told Jared his worries, and his mate was still there beside him. Jensen wasn’t alone.

“I’m serious you know?” Jared’s voice was close to his ear. “I’ll do anything to make this right between us. I wish I'd had the time to convince you back then, but you were dying because of something my people did, and I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t lose you.”

“Why?” Jensen’s voice sounded young and insecure. “Why me?”

“Because, I was in love with you.” Jared’s arms tightened around him. “I think I have been since you first walked through the doors of my shop. God knows why, though, you had a chip on your shoulder you could see from space.”

Jared chuckled softly and nibbled on Jensen’s ear as his big hands ran up and down Jensen’s body. “But I knew you were meant to be mine.”

“Well at least one of us did.” Jensen mumbled, exhaustion setting in. He started to drift off, but then jerked awake with a start.

“What? What is it?” Jared’s hold on him tightened.

“What if I have the dream again?”

Jared kissed him gently on the temple. “Then we’ll talk about it. But no dream is going to make you stop loving me, no matter what awful mistakes I’ve made. And I’ll keep telling you that until you finally believe it. Then maybe you can work on forgiving me.”

Jensen blew out a ragged breath, the last of the tension in his body seeping away. “M’kay, I’ll hold you to that.”


	3. The Forge — The Were Becomes the Hunter Once More

 

Neither of them moved until early the following morning, the emotional toll of the day and evening before having exhausted them both. Jensen woke in the protective cocoon of Jared’s arms, the smell of omega and home and the faint hint of Jared’s oncoming heat were all growing so familiar.

 

Jensen lay there, listening to the sound of his mate’s breathing, the tickle of his hair on Jensen’s neck, the soft press of Jared’s morning wood against the cheek of his ass. Jensen could almost make himself believe that nothing out of the ordinary had happened the day before. Almost.

He had never been much of a drama queen or the type to share his feelings. As a foster child and then a marshal, there hadn’t been much opportunity, listening was what he was good at. So to speak up like this, to share his dark confession and truly speak his mind, he had somehow expected a do or die scenario, with Jared gone from his life. Instead he had been forced to speak up or his mate would have left him. It was getting to the point where he needed a “man whisperer” to decipher all his conflicting emotions. Things had always been so black and white for him in the past.

Jensen sighed. Everything about Munter’s Gorge had challenged his worldview, why shouldn’t it roll on into his love life? And speaking of, Jensen bit back a groan of embarrassment thinking about his actions the night before, crying before his mate…How was he going to be able to look Jared in the eye this morning? How was he going to proceed?

“You don’t have to do anything, you know.” Jared’s voice was a quiet huff in his ear. Lost in thought, Jensen hadn’t noticed his mate waking. “We can just take it one day at a time, like we've been doing.”

Jensen laughed shakily, and pushed himself out of the suddenly claustrophobic grasp of Jared’s arms and the resonant touch of the bond. Sitting on the side of the bed, he rubbed his hand over his face. With this mating stuff it was getting hard for a guy to keep his secrets secret. “That easy huh?”

Jared reached across the empty covers so he could curl his hand around Jensen’s hip. The contact was oddly grounding. Jared’s voice was calm when he spoke. “It can be if you let it. Maybe not easy, but at least do-able.” The sheets rustled as his mate sat up in the bed and slid closer. “What we have, Jensen, I think it’s worth fighting for. I love you, man.” Jared’s big hand slipped further around Jensen’s waist and down to wrap around his legs and tugged, manhandling Jensen around so they were facing each other. Jensen gave in to the urging, an embarrassed flush heating his cheeks.

Unable to meet Jared’s eyes, he worried at his bottom lip. “I love you too, you know. I just never expected to feel so conflicted, deal with so many emotions.” Jensen wheezed and it was like a vice was tightening around his chest, squeezing, as the beginnings of a panic attack set in.

“Easy, easy, stay with me.” Jared tipped Jensen’s shoulder forward so his head was leaning in against Jared’s chest. Jared’s hands rubbed gently over his naked back and stroked along his flanks until the worst of the attack was over.

“Big tough alpha, right?” Jensen exhaled raggedly, he hadn’t had a panic attack since he was a child. He could still remember his grandfather rocking him in his arms.

“ _My_ big tough alpha. Sometimes even alphas have to bend rather than break. These last few months have been a shock to your system. You can’t suddenly wake up a were and not expect some bumps along the way.”

Jensen pushed his hand up against Jared’s chest weakly, “I gotta get dressed. I’m on duty this morning.”

“No you’re not. I’ve phoned in for both of us and you’re staying in bed today. Sleep, think, do crosswords, I don’t care, but you’re not going to work and neither am I. I’m gonna do nothing but hang around here and drive you nuts with my attempts at super deluxe pampering. I’ll start things off by fixing us up some breakfast and bring it up here. I don’t want you to move in the meantime.”

“Can I at least get up to pee?” Jensen quipped.

“I don’t know, you didn’t let me, if I recall correctly. It would only be fair to repay the favor.” Jared pushed Jensen back against the pillows mounded against the headboard and tugged down his sleep pants, shuffling in between Jensen’s legs to get closer.

“Fuck, no, Jay! Stop it.” The humiliated blush deepened as Jared reached for Jensen’s cock. He rubbed his hand along the mostly flaccid shaft and hummed.

“Such a pretty cock.” Jared mused, bending down to lick up its length.

“Jay, I mean it. Stop.” Jensen squeaked and started to struggle, but Jared had his sleeping pants pinned under him and Jensen couldn’t move his legs. Jared’s smile was dazzling when he looked up, an impish look in his eyes.

Jensen grimaced at the fading yellowish bruises on Jared’s face. It would have been much worse last night. “Oh Jay!” Jensen reached to touch, but Jared pulled a face and swatted his hand away dismissively. His gaze never leaving Jensen’s, he licked a long wet stripe along his palm and then leaned down and started to play with Jensen’s cock before he finally responded.

“You think you look any better? I gave as good as I got, lover.” He dragged his hand up and down Jensen’s shaft, jerking him gentle and slow, like he’d break if he was handled too roughly.

It was almost hypnotizing, watching Jared’s big hand on his cock, and Jensen couldn’t take his eyes off his mate. Jared glanced up, his brow arched, and Jensen caught the soft, knowing look on his face. The intimacy of watching Jared touch him like this, careful and with intent, so much love in every move, it was frightening as much as arousing. Jensen squirmed impatiently, and finally Jared eased back, releasing the trapped folds of the pajama bottoms so he could part his legs wider around Jared’s kneeling form.

Jensen quickly stiffened in Jared’s hand and it took all his energy not to buck up, thrust himself into Jared’s spit slick fingers. Jared’s fox eyes gazed at him half closed and dark with arousal as he bent down and opened his lips to take Jensen into his mouth. Suddenly surrounded by warm and wet, this time Jensen couldn’t help but rock his hips. Jared’s talented tongue swirled around him, pressing under the sensitive head and more delicately into his piss slit.

Jared’s hand splayed over Jensen’s stomach, holding him in place as he took him down all the way. Jensen let out a ragged moan, twisting in Jared’s hold. His hands grabbed at Jared’s head and shoulders as Jared started to bob up and down in earnest.

And then he was coming, so quick and fast he barely had time to shout a warning. He pushed against Jared’s shoulder, but his mate held him, steadfastly ignored his efforts to move, and then it was too late and he was pouring deep down Jared’s throat, Jared’s long neck swallowing around him, milking him of every last drop.

Jensen gasped and twitched, shivering as Jared continued to suckle until he finally let Jensen's still half hard cock go, sliding wet and shiny from his lips.

“Okay, so maybe you can go to the bathroom on your own,” Jared smirked as he ran his hand across his mouth, “But, just this once. I'll be back with your breakfast in a jiffy.” Jensen could only blink as Jared sauntered to the closet, hips swaying deliberately, and picked up his jade kimono. Jensen watched in admiration, but in spite of the amazing view, his eyelids started to flutter closed all on their own. Too fucked out and exhausted to even reach for the sheet, sleep pulled him under.

 

The scent of bacon woke him.

Bladder screaming for relief and stomach growling, Jensen cracked open one bleary eye and inhaled. The rich, salty scent of bacon filled his nose along with the earthier, creamy smell of coffee. Jensen sighed and rolled over onto his back with a groan, stretching, and scratched absently at his balls.

He looked around and found Jared leaning against the headboard beside him, propped up against a mound of pillows, and waving a strip of bacon in the air like a red flag at a bull. When he noticed Jensen’s eyes were open, a wide grin split his face and he looked for all the world like a small child caught mid-prank.

The noisy slurp of his coffee was the last straw.

“You’re killing me here, ya’know that?” Jensen groaned, bladder yodeling now. “I’ll be right back, and there'd better be some coffee left.”

 

Jensen made short work of his ablutions. It was only as he brushed his teeth that he stopped to take a closer look at himself in the mirror. It wasn’t that he had expected some kind of epic change to be visible, and it wasn’t; maybe a softening of the eyes, a relaxing of the brow. His sleep had been fitful this last month since Jared moved in, so it was surprising to wake up from an uneventful night…'day’s sleep and actually feel rested.

He ran his hand along the yellow tinged skin on his cheekbone. The last of the bruising from their fight was fading fast. The bottle green eyes that stared back at him were as serious as they ever were. He still wasn’t sure if a person could sweep an event like his turning under the rug in one night, but God damn, it beat the alternatives he’d been exploring to date. And didn’t there have to be more to life than hurt and punishment and loss?

With the smell of bacon and Jared Java taunting him, Jensen turned away from his reflection and resolutely promised himself to stay focused on the things that really mattered.

 

 

The sun was setting, pink tinged clouds trailing the departing sun like streamers in the western sky. It had been a lazy day. Both men had cuddled and napped, rousing themselves only long enough to scrounge for food or put on a movie, dozing in and out of various explosions and car chases. Jared had been able to stave off the one emergency that happened when Travis called, panicking because he'd burned the croissants. The problem was quickly dealt with, bait and switch style, by putting the muffins on sale. And Jared had quickly tumbled back into bed uttering smugly, “Next up, world peace. I am a baking god!”

Jared had quickly cuddled up against Jensen’s chest, neither of them sleepy any longer, just chilling, pleasantly relaxed. Jensen smiled absently and started to run his fingers through Jared’s hair,

“Do you want to talk about it some more?” Jared’s tone was mild.

Mid stroke, Jensen’s hand stilled. Playing for time, he rubbed several strands of Jared’s shiny chestnut locks between his thumb and forefinger before answering.

“Can we maybe give it a rest for a bit? I’m not hiding from anything, I’m just kind of burnt out.”

“Mmmm,” Jared nodded, support flowing through the bond.

Jensen sat up straighter against the padded headboard they’d picked out together and started to pet Jared’s hair again. The silence was comfortable.

He started to speak before he even realized he was talking out loud. “I guess I thought things would have to be more black and white than they are. Instead, they’re a million shades of grey, and messy. I love you, but I hate that my choice was taken from me. I hated feeling weak, and powerless. I hadn’t felt that way since I was a child. But then seeing Winters and Foldbrook punished…”

Jensen’s fingers came to a stop sliding down to cup Jared’s shoulder and squeeze. “I don’t know. It was so brutal and final, very black and white. The Tribunal made a decision much like I would have made myself in my days as a marshal. Now, I’m seeing everything in a million shades of.”

Jensen shook his head, “The thought of the pack doing something like that to you makes me want to kill something. The crimes are almost the same, but I know you did it to save me. Winters and Foldbrook did it to tear me down. Are the reasons you did it different enough from them to protect you from the resentment inside me? I just don’t want to wake up one day and realize that I hate the person I’m with, or myself.”

“Do you think that will happen? Do you seriously think your wolf would let you make such a bad decision?” Jared grasped Jensen’s hand and turned it, pressing a light kiss onto his wrist. Jensen’s hand tingled at the contact.

Wolf started to howl, knocking around, putting up a terrible fuss. Jensen chuckled, it seemed he was outnumbered two to one. “No, I don’t think he would.”

Jared smiled and pulled Jensen’s head in for a long searching kiss. When their lips parted, Jared stared into his eyes and nodded. “Baby steps.”

 

: : :

Jared watched Jensen sleep. It had become his habit since they moved in together to observe his lover in the early morning hours as he lay dreaming. It was one of the few perks of having to get up at ass o’clock in the morning for the bakery and Jared relished standing sentinel over his fiercely independent mate..

Jensen was such a force of nature, elemental, always so focused, doing, acting, thinking, surviving. Jared could count only a handful of times where he had seen Jensen relaxed, at rest. So to watch his lover now, to see all that coiled strength and force of will unwind, to see the barriers lowered and his lover vulnerable, at rest, brought out all of Jared’s protective instincts.

Maybe it was creeperish, but if Jared were being perfectly honest, it started that first day in the cave when he turned Jensen, watching the man during the turning, heart in hand, unsure if he would live or die. He remembered the rush of relief as he witnessed the marks and bruises slowly fade from his lover's battered body and the blush of health return to his cheeks and that first puff of air as he woke. When Jensen’s eyes opened and sought out Jared first, his heart had swelled with emotion.

When the nightmares began, Jensen would often toss and turn much of the night, but by early morning he had usually worn himself out. Lying there so still, Jared could finally satisfy his curiosity and count the freckles running across the bridge of Jensen’s nose, or marvel at how much younger Jensen looked without the perpetually wrinkled brow of concentration,, or run a finger lightly over the ginger stubble as he slept.

Staring down at his mate now, Jared was once again taken aback by how gorgeous his Jensen was, not that Jensen ever liked to hear himself being talked about that way, but he was. Even with his eyes bruised from lack of sleep, Jensen had an almost surreal, ethereal beauty. Moaning again, restless, Jensen’s long eyelashes fluttered, his mouth opening on a huff of breath, tongue pressing against sharp eyeteeth.

Unable to stop himself, Jared leaned in, his tongue sliding along Jensen’s plump lower lip, licking and sucking at the firm pink flesh. Hungry for more, Jared growled, pressing at the seam of his mate’s lips to gain entry. Jensen’s mouth opened on a gasp and Jared found himself sliding inside, his tongue mapping the sharp peaks of Jensen’s canines; before licking in deeper. Chasing the unique taste of his mate, Jared drew quivering breaths from his sleepy mate.

Jared’s cock began to lengthen and thicken and with a ragged gasp, he pulled away, the taste of alpha and mate taunting on his lips. At the loss of contact, Jensen moaned and rocked his own thickening shaft against Jared. With a shuddered breath, Jared tried to ignore the press of Jensen's cock against his thigh. Desire like a flame sparking through him. He counted to ten and pulled his mate’s face in closer, pressing their foreheads together, his breath whistling raggedly in and out of his chest. Heart pounding, Jared realized more would never be enough, not of this man: not one extra morning, or a week, or one lifetime. He kissed Jensen’s forehead and rolled onto his back, sagging against the pillows as he tried to calm himself enough to get up and go to work.

: : :

Jared was gone when Jensen woke. He had to look twice at the time, and squinted at the green LEDs grumpily. He was more than an hour late for work. Damn, he didn’t understand why the alarm didn’t go off.

A note on Jensen’s nightstand solved the mystery,

_I told the department not to expect you until this afternoon, so you could sleep in. I took the Rover; off to cook a double batch of croissants for the invading hordes, come save me from them later, if you can._

_xx_

_Jay_

Jensen was still grinning as he climbed into the shower. He knew how set in their ways Jared’s customers were, missing their favorite treat yesterday would lead to an inevitable rush on them today. Just thinking about Jared’s buttery creations made Jensen hungry himself for one of those tasty treats. If he was lucky, his mate would remember to set a flaky morsel aside for him.

He was just straightening his tie when the house phone started to ring. Running downstairs, he scooped up the old rotary dial phone just as it stopped ringing. A heartbeat later he could hear his cell phone kicking in from the bedroom, cursing he took the stairs two at a time in an effort to grab it in time.

“Took you long enough.” A dry, disgruntled voice drawled in his ear as he pressed _talk_.

“Well my hundred yard dash isn’t what it used to be. Must be getting old or something.” Jensen quipped. “What’s up, old man? I’m sure you didn't call just to scold me for sleepin’ in.”

“Nope. Wish I was,” Williams replied wistfully before his tone grew serious. “The Townsend Sheriff's Department filed a report last night of a were sighting, and you’re the closest hunter by three hundred miles. I hate to interrupt your little honeymoon and all, but I need you to head over there ASAP to confirm. Seems like there was a shootout. No one was hurt but it sounds like it might be only a matter of time until someone is. The local sheriff thinks the were is still somewhere in the vicinity. I want you to confirm, and if it is what they think, capture its furry ass and deport it to the nearest Reservation. Take it out only if you absolutely have to.”

Jensen swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. It had been one thing to hunt weres when he was a human. Doing it now that he was were himself presented a multitude of problems. “Well that’s tragic and all, but you do realize I don’t work for you anymore, remember?”

“Oh that sad little story you told me last week about meetin’ the love of your life and wantin’ out?” Williams snorted derisively. “Ha! You think that cuts any slack with me? Until your gun and badge are on my desk—and I’ll believe that when I see it—your ass is still mine, Marshall. And what I say, goes. You hear me?”

“I’m driving out next week to hand in my badge and you know it, you ornery old coot. Besides, I have a new job. How the hell am I going to get time off work to do your bidding?”

“Already taken care of. I talked to that sheriff of yours, Beaver? And he’s fine with loaning you out to the Bureau, said whatever he could do to help the Feds. I have to say Jen, I like the man. I might have to come and check out this little one horse town of yours just to shake hands with the sheriff that managed to steal your pretty ass out from under me.”

Jensen rolled his eyes and snorted. He’d never admit it to the man, but he’d miss these little verbal throwdowns they had. Of course, Beaver gave pretty much as good as he got, so really he’d just replaced one ornery old captain with another.

“Fine, but you owe me one. I had a fresh flaky croissant with my name on it.”

“You’re breakin’ my heart, here. I’ve already sent you all the details we have by email. Check in when you’re on the ground.”

The phone clicked and Jensen let out a soft curse. This wasn’t how retirement from the Bureau was supposed to go. The phone rang and Jensen startled, he had been standing there holding his phone to his ear lost in thought before his brain kicked back into gear. He rushed to thumb the answer button and finally mashed down on it by the second ring.

“They’re piping hot and ready anytime.” Jensen could hear the smile in Jared’s voice.

“Jay, I just got a call from Williams.” Jensen could hear Jared’s sharp intake of breath over the phone. “There’s been a were sighting in Townsend. He wants me over there.”

“Can’t you refuse?”

Jensen was already shaking his head. “I can’t. It would be too suspicious. I need to try and get hold of Morgan, see if he has any ideas who it could be, other than the obvious.” Jensen had a sinking feeling in his gut, but he might be wrong.

“So, how long will you be gone?”

“As long as it takes. I’m gonna pack a bag and swing by to get the Rover. I’ll leave my squad car by The Bean, could you get a ride home?”

“Nah, I’ll stay at the apartment, it’ll be easier. I’ll put in a call to see if the Calders could drop by and feed the horses for the next couple of days. You can pick me up when you come home. Good thing you and Osric had been working on your equipment.”

“Yeah.” Jensen said dryly. He hoped he wouldn’t have to put any of it to use, at least not this soon.

“Jen…”

“Mhum?”

“Be safe. Come back to me.”

 

 

Jensen put in a quick call to Morgan, unfortunately, Morgan didn’t have any other candidates either. He also got a good description of Winters and Foldbrook in were form, he’d never seen them shifted, that he knew of. He wanted to know what to look for before heading out.

“All I know, kid, is that Foldbrook had some family over Townsend way. Not pack, just relatives of relatives. They may have split up and Foldbrook went to ground there or he and Winters could be holed up anywhere. But there could be two of ‘em. Do you want me to tag along? I can close up shop for a day or two.”

“No.” Jensen was shaking his head. “It might take longer than that and it would raise eyebrows, having a civilian with a hunter. Thanks, but I’ll have to handle this on my own.” Jensen hung up and opened his laptop and logged onto the secure Bureau network to read the Townsend Sheriff Department's report. It had been filed by a young deputy, Brianna Buckmaster. It was her first shooting incident; she had only been on the force for three years. As Williams had warned him, the information was sketchy, and if it was at all accurate, who else but a were would be left standing after taking at least three rounds in the chest? Rubbing his jaw, Jensen logged off. It seemed pretty damn clear this was a hunt.

His boxers hanging off his lean hips, Jensen grabbed his duffel out of the back closet and dragged it onto the bed. Oz still had a few things he was working on in preparation for Jensen’s visit to the Bureau next week, but thanks to the kid's efforts so far, Jensen had more than enough were-friendly equipment to get him through this job.

Humming tunelessly under his breath, he began his preparations for the hunt. It was a ritual he normally enjoyed, emptying his mind of any and all extraneous distractions so he could focus on what was needed, the details as important as the hunt itself. As he zipped open the duffel, his world narrowed. The other parts of himself shed away like the skins of an onion and things were reduced to their simplest core: the hunter and the hunted.

A feral smile creased his face as he lifted the small steel lock box into the light. He flipped the lid open to reveal his badge and his custom edition Taurus. He laid the leather badge holder on its chain on the bed. His fingertips feathered lightly over the badge's silver surface, the burn somehow grounding. Then he plucked the Taurus out of its foam form. His hands reverently traced along the familiar barrel and grip, ejecting the clip to spin it with a firm, confident hand. It was fully loaded: flame pellet, knock out dart, tangler, and clip of nine silver bullets in their places, all impeccably clean. His finger slid over the trigger and his thumb ghosted over the safety, the gun a warm, familiar weight once again, thanks to Osric’s help, perfectly fitting his hand.

Jensen swallowed hard as he laid the gun on the bedspread, reluctant to give up the feel of it in his hand, now that he could safely touch it again.

Instead he reached for his black leather thigh holster. He thumbed the snap on the safety loop and slid out ten inches of silver edged death. Expertly, he turned the blade in the light, his hand refamiliarizing himself with its weight, testing the balance. It was perfect. He would never guess he was now holding a silver impregnated handle, The coating that Oz had expertly applied to his Taurus worked just as perfectly on the hilt of the knife. The clear solution had bonded on a molecular level with the silver impregnated grips, sealing the metal away from Jensen’s skin. It would take a micro scanner, or a were grabbing the blade or the gun, to reveal the truth.

It had been Jared who had first suggested Jensen talk to the unassuming head of IT at Iron Ridge Woolen Company. Jensen would never have guessed, but the young were had many useful acquaintances in some of the greyer markets. Not that Jensen would know himself, not with that stick of righteous fury he had gone around with stuck up his ass all these years. He realized now he had probably scared off more than a few people from coming in contact with him over the years.

It turned out it was handy to know people in low places, and from Osric's days in San Francisco before moving to the Gorge, the young tech had made more than a few interesting acquaintances. As Oz had probably rightly speculated, there was more than one were working in sensitive areas of the government. All it took was the proper preparation.

In the hunters' tradition, he drew the blade lightly across his inner forearm to check its sharpness. A few of the sparse fine hairs fell, and a hair-thin line of blood welled instantly. Jensen rotated his arm, watching transfixed as the droplet raced a bloody trail toward his wrist and palm. Wolf raised his head in interest and growled as Jensen bowed his head and licked the red away, savoring the coppery taste that blossomed on his tongue.

Methodically, he cleaned the smear of blood off the blade before sheathing the weapon.

Like armor, his black shirt and jeans went on first, followed by his bulletproof vest. Wearing it in the truck would be a nuisance, but you never knew when something might happen, and the Marshal Ackles of old would never have been caught without his vest.

He stowed his med kit, bandolier, spare rifle, and backup pistol, along with a couple changes of clothing, back in the duffel. The thigh holster went on, followed by his Bureau issue black boots with their silver-tipped toes. Then he reached for his signature hunter gloves.

Jensen’s fingers tingled with a low level burn as he tugged them on. Making them were friendly had proven to be a bit more work than they had anticipated at first because of the material. The black inner lining was fine, but the exterior, covered in trace amounts of silver, had been a challenge. The treatment Oz had found was almost undetectable, and as long as Jensen didn’t hold onto them for too long putting them on, the pain was bearable. Already focused on the job ahead, Jensen strapped on the vest, closed his laptop and shoved it into his duffel before swinging the strap over his shoulder.

He slid his Taurus into its holster, the gun hanging comfortably on his hip, then draped the chain and leather holder with his silver hunter badge around his neck. It was the only piece of untreated silver left in his kit and he handled it gingerly. Being around the raw metal grounded him somehow; it was a constant reminder of the hunter he used to be, and the hunter he was now.

Transformation complete, he gazed around the room one last time before heading out, stopping only long enough to grab his Stetson. He caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, the gleam of predator eyes in the mirror startling him. Gone were the hobby farmer, the country sheriff and the fledgling were, all pared down to reveal the trained killing machine, the hunter prepared for battle. He smiled grimly, his Stetson set low, silver star shining at his breast in his crow-black dress. There was something wraith-like about the figure he cut, a thing of nightmares, menacing and dangerous. Wolf howled in approval.

Comments always appreciated ^^


	4. The Forge — To Catch a Wolf

 

[ ](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/94567.html)

 

 

When Townsend was only an hour away, he put a call in to the deputy sheriff.

“Heck if I know where it’s hiding,” she told him. “All I do know is, I want it gone before it infects anyone.” She was more than a little shaken by the idea of a were in their town.

“Well, we’ll do our best, ma’am. I’m just trying to find out if anyone got a good look at it, maybe saw it in its human form and recognized it? Was there anyone else with it?”

“You think we’ve been invaded by a pack?” Jensen got the impression the deputy was a bit high-strung. He could almost see her eyebrows rising.

“No, no," he was quick to reassure her. "Just asking.”

“Ah, hell, I’m as jittery as a cat on a hot tin roof. Sorry. The only one who really saw anything is me.” Buckmaster confessed sheepishly. “I was on call last night, doing my regular patrol around town, when we got a report of a possible 459 —Burglary. The diner was closed, and I saw the glint of glass in the driveway along the side of the building. When I shone my flashlight down the alley I saw the side window was broken out.” Buckmaster chuckled weakly. “Mel’s too cheap to have an alarm system, especially when Mrs. Henderson next door is the next best thing. It was her that heard the breaking glass and called us. She didn’t see anything though, I checked. When I got there, I was just expecting it to be some kids, graffiti, it’s happened before. I went in through the front and saw something scavenging in the kitchen. The next thing I knew a dark, furry blur was coming at me. I started shooting, and got off five shots. I thought I got it, I was aiming right at it. Must have landed at least three slugs in it before it knocked me over. My head caught on a table edge on the way down, and by the time I woke up, it was gone. All I had to go on was a pool of blood and an emptied out refrigerator.”

“Okay," Jensen nodded, acknowledgement of her story. "That’s a pretty good start. Let’s begin at Mel’s and go from there. I’m hoping you kept everyone out of the diner? If the site is still clean, I might be able to get some clean blood samples and track it. Anything specific you remember about the were? Eyes, markings on the fur? Anything?”

Buckmaster huffed irritably, clearly disappointed, “Nah, sorry. All I remember was, it was dark, and maybe blue eyes. Sorry, I know I’m not being much help here, but we are keeping the scene closed off for you.”

“S’okay Deputy, we’ll find 'im.”

 

Hanging up from that call, Jensen smacked the wheel in frustration. Both Winters and Foldbrook had blue eyes, and both weres had dark fur. It could easily be either one of them, or neither. Jensen would just have to wait until he could get a clear scent.

Brianna Buckmaster had clearly been a pretty girl. Her blonde hair, pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, had faded a little, and years had added some inches to her waist. But she held herself erect, where she stood by one of two cruisers in front of a small clapboard single-story building. There was a large hand painted sign hanging over the double doors: a pig wearing an apron and the words, "Mel’s Diner" painted in red at a jaunty angle beside it. A hard faced young cop and a ruddy faced man wearing a cook's apron stood beside Buckmaster. Jensen did a double take at the sign as he put on his Stetson and got out of his truck.

“Deputy Buckmaster? Marshal Jensen Ackles, Hunter Bureau.” Jensen stretched out his hand.

“Call me Brianna, almost everyone round here does.” Brianna’s grip was firmer than he would have guessed and, while her smile was soft, her eyes were alert. She canted her head toward the man beside her in the cook’s apron. “This here is Mel Higgins, owner of the diner. And fellow deputy, Travis Aaron Wade. He’s the one been watching the diner while I filed my report.”

“Jensen, glad to meet ya.” He nodding at the two men.

He shook Mel’s large meaty hand as well as Wade’s firmer grip as Brianna explained. “Like you asked, we’ve kept everyone out of the diner since last night. Only one’s been in there is me, so it should be pretty clean.”

“Hmm. Well I’ll go take a look.” Jensen inhaled deeply so his wolf could get a clear read on their scents. “If you folks wouldn’t mind waiting here?”

Jensen pulled out his flashlight and entered the diner. The wide plank, solid pine floors were scarred but immaculately clean, and if there was an overabundance of pine paneling on the walls and matching pine furniture, the hominess of the place more than made up for it. He inhaled and caught the mingled, overlaid scents of the many humans who had passed through the diner. But over that heavy layer were three scents. One, Mel’s, he discounted right away, but there were two more recent scents of blood, both human and were. The human he could definitely pick out as Buckmaster’s. He followed the scent trail to an overturned table and chairs where a small streak of human blood had dried on the edge of the fallen table. Jensen could see the faint scuff marks of where the deputy had gone down. Jensen crouched down and sniffed at the blood and paw prints on the floor, the scent bright, and undeniably were.

Jensen wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad that the scent didn't belong to Winters or Foldbrook.

Five shell casings on the floor and were bloodstains a few feet beyond the cartridges bore witness to Brianna’s story. He panned his flashlight briefly over the long counter running the length of the room just beyond where Buckmaster’s dustup had taken place, and counted at least three holes in the tile. He was sure if he looked harder he would find the other two. Between adrenaline and the darkness, it wouldn’t have surprised him if the deputy had only winged the were, but from the quantity of blood, he thought she’d squarely hit her mark. Jensen scraped some of the blood into a bottle for typing at the Bureau and then stood, dusting off his knees. Though it was obviously gone now, even a were might not survive three direct hits to the chest.

He followed the wolf tracks and trail of blood into the kitchen where the big icebox door still stood open.

Taking a knee, he analyzed the mess of debris. The were must have been starving, the fridge was almost empty. A shattered bottle of jam clearly showed a partial human footprint. It had shifted here when it heard Buckmaster enter, then returned to grab up the food before it ran. Inhaling again, Jensen got the impression of pubescent alpha, a teen perhaps. Certainly not a scent robust enough for a full grown alpha.

Damn, just a hungry kid.

He switched off his flashlight and followed the faint sneaker prints out the back door and into the woods. Although snow was falling, the scent trail was still plain enough, it would be easy to follow.

Jensen returned to the front of the diner where Buckmaster waited anxiously. “It definitely was a were,” he told her. “I can see its two distinct sets of tracks, both were and human. A juvenile, inexperienced drifter probably, looking for food from the looks of it.”

Brianna’s eyes went wide. “A kid…” she breathed.

Deputy Wade sneered patting her back, “That wasn’t a kid Bri, that was a trained killer. Don’t feel sorry for it.”

Ignoring Wade’s obviously ignorant comment, Jensen eyed Brianna critically, seeing a streak of blood just under the bandage at her hairline. “May I?” He carefully pushed back her hair to examine the head wound and circumspectly check for any bites or scratch marks. He noticed her pupils were pinpointed, signs of a hopefully mild concussion, but not obvious gnaw marks. He had to ask though, “Did you have any cuts or scrapes anywhere else when you woke up? Did he bite you?”

“Oh lord, I don’t think so. It was the first thing I checked.”

Jensen could smell the sharp spike of fear as realization dawned on Brianna. Wolf sniffed disdainfully, catching the deputy’s shift in scent, weak prey was easy prey.

Jensen didn’t think the kid had touched the sheriff, it didn’t seem to be his MO. Regardless, he dutifully reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small plastic bottle of silver boosters and handed them to the deputy. “Here, just in case. I want you to take one of these right now, and one every six hours until you run out. That’s a full course, you can follow up with your own doctor as well. I don’t think it got you, but just in case. I’m also pretty sure you’ve got a mild concussion but the doc would know better, you probably shouldn’t be driving. All right?”

Brianna’s hand shook as she accepted the pills.

“Seriously,” Jensen took Brianna’s hand in his to steady it. “I want you to stay calm. There is no use worrying about something that isn’t going to happen.” Jensen tried to infuse his message with a hint of his Alpha voice. He could see Brianna subtly relaxing as he spoke, her eyes taking on a dazed, distant look. Huh. Interesting. So suddenly, he was now capable of Jedi were-tricks? He smothered a tiny grin and tucked that bit of information away for analysis later on.

“So, I’ve seen all I need, you can go back onto the premises. I’m going to go track the were and, hopefully, bring it in.”

“What, you’re not going to just shoot it? It attacked her!” Deputy Wade suddenly interjected. “They’re born killers, all of ‘em. I thought that was the bureau’s job—to hunt ‘em down!”

Jensen didn’t bother arguing what was and wasn’t the Bureau’s mandate. Squeezing Brianna’s hand he tried to get her to focus on him. The wide cornflower blue eyes that finally centered on him were still shocky and far away. Beside her, Mel had gone frighteningly pale, his chubby arm wrapped around the sheriff more in fear for himself than to support Brianna.

“I’d ask that you warn your deputies to call me first if they spot a young drifter. Don’t approach him. He’s on foot, young, inexperienced and so far he’s done nothing more threatening than steal some food. I don’t think he means anyone any harm. I want to try to take him alive if I can, and return him to the Rez. That’s what the Bureau’s here to do.”

Mel started to bluster about the twenty pounds of missing grill steak, and Jensen tried to engage Brianna. “He’s just a kid. Kids make mistakes. You have kids yourself, don't you?”

At the mention of children, Brianna finally seemed to rally and concentrate on what he was saying. “Yes, yes, two boys.”

“What are their names, Brianna?” Jensen kept his tone low and reassuring.

“Mathew and Sam…”

“I'll bet they're fine boys. Now Mel, why don’t you take the sheriff inside and get her a drink to take her meds with before the deputy here drives her to the ER. I’m going to start out now.”

“But, you don’t have any backup. It’s just you alone.” Mel’s eyes were as wide as Brianna’s.

“They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit in my hotel room,” he smiled.

As Jensen walked to his truck he could see Deputy Travis Aaron Wade’s cruel, pale eyes watching him.

 

Giving the keys to his truck over to Wade to get the Rover taken back to the station, Jensen had only stopped long enough to pull on wind pants and snowshoes and strap on one of the hiking bags he and Jared habitually kept in the truck. He wasn’t so much scared of the kid, more concerned for what condition he would find him in when he caught up to him. The snow crunched quietly under his snowshoes; the boy's trail pathetically clear, even to a fledgling were like himself. Jensen had no problem following it through the foot deep snow.

The forest was peaceful this time of year, no campers to disrupt the woods, many of the animals snuggled deep in their dens, safe from the elements. A red fox slipped through the underbrush, veering off when it scented him, but other than that, it was mostly silent. Jensen set up an economical, loping run that ate up the distance; it left him lots of time to roll different scenarios around in his head. In a perfect world, he’d like to take the kid back to the Iron Ridge pack and find a place for him, but realistically, that could put the whole pack in danger. His next choice was to turn the boy over to the Rez. Even not knowing the kid, Jensen shivered at the idea of dumping the teen off at that hellhole. At least he was an alpha, and wouldn’t be whored out like the young omegas. But a life sentence to the poisoned mines was no cakewalk, either, more like a half-life. And all that depended on if the kid came willingly.

Then there was also the possibility the kid would rat him out. Jensen chewed on his lip. He’d have to cross that bridge when he came to it. An hour in, he could see where the young were had stopped to eat; candy bar wrappers littered the snow. He inhaled deeply, the scent was fresher here, Jensen was gaining on him. Good.

Within another hour he began to see snatches of a blue windbreaker through the trees, but the boy was too nose blind, or fixated on his destination, to notice anyone following him.

He noticed the kid’s trail was starting to curve back in toward the edge of town, so, not toward a den hidden away in the woods, then. He must have literally some kind of safe house.

Jensen picked up the pace, closing in on the boy. He watched as the boy crept carefully out of the cover of the forest and into the shadow of the fence line bordering the woods. It was the first time Jensen had had a clear view of the boy. Young, teenaged, as Jensen had already guessed, about five foot six, but skinny, as young boys often were, and greasy looking brown hair. The kid was wearing a tattered blue puffy vest with a grey hoodie and jeans. Over his shoulder were two garbage bags that bulged with the weight of the food he had stolen.

Jensen had to give it to the kid, he hadn’t jacked a place in his own back yard, and he had gone to pretty good lengths, by non-were standards, to take cover away from the scene of the crime. Smart.

The boy continued to skirt along the fences while Jensen shadowed his movement from the trees. The boy was moving into a part of town with larger Victorian era style homes of what had historically probably been one of the more affluent parts of town, before Townsend had fallen on hard times.

According to the report Williams had sent him, Townsend had a population of only eighteen hundred, its heyday was long past. It had sprung to life and then gone bust just as quickly during Montana’s mini gold rush in the late nineteen hundreds. There had been a slight rebound with a brisk logging trade before the bottom had fallen out of timber in the mid seventies. And, in the way of small towns, it had tried to reinvent itself by turning to tourism. Unfortunately it was a little too high up in the mountains and too far from the Interstate to ever be a major destination.

Jensen noted that a few of the homes they were passing by had been renovated, but most were in various states of disrepair. Massive buildings with miles of rotting wood, peeling paint and falling lattice, their windows and doors boarded up, most were too run down, and too massive a project for the average young family to take on.

Stopped by one such house, the kid pushed back two loose slats in the wooden fence surrounding the property and threw his two garbage bags inside the perimeter. With a quick scan around him, he followed, slipping in through the boards to disappear into the yard beyond. Jensen waited a few seconds and then stepped out of the trees. Kicking off his snowshoes as he reached the fence, he clipped them to his pack, and careful to first take off his Stetson, ducked his head through the palings to look around. The back yard of the dilapidated old Victorian was nothing special, with its windows boarded up and an air of desolation about it. The kid was nowhere in sight, but his tracks showed clearly in the snow.

Easing through the tight opening, Jensen dropped his pack and Stetson just inside the fence, and followed the boy’s trail. It ended at a set of heavy wooden bulkhead doors leading to the house's basement.

There was a light through the thin crack where the doors met. Ears cocked, Jensen stood listening for a while for voices. There was nothing but the faint whiff of wood smoke and the smell of meat starting to cook. Wolf anxiously started to whine.

Think the boy's alone, do you? Jensen rubbed at his jaw, experiencing an uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty. He hadn’t really had much time to consider how strange it would be hunting his own kind now. He had hoped to avoid it completely by resigning from the bureau as soon as he could. Now, with his knowledge of the Rez and what future would await the boy, he found himself at a crossroads. He briefly debated just turning around and leaving, but the sad truth was, if it wasn’t Jensen who found the boy, it would be someone else. Someone who wouldn’t care whether he was brought in dead or alive.

“Okay, I guess it’s all or nothing,” he whispered, easing one of the doors open. “Probably mostly nothing.”

 

Comments always appreciated ^^


	5. The Forge — No Silver Lining

 

Jensen ducked his head as he stepped down into the cellar and sniffed cautiously, then took a deeper breath when he didn't smell anything other than the damp of the cellar’s dirt floor, the young alpha, and blood, probably from one or two of Brianna’s shots. The ceiling was low and the basement's fieldstone walls were cold. He could see the flicker of a small fire in the center of the dirt floor next to where a flight of wooden steps led upstairs. An improvised spit had been set up and one of Mel’s prime, thick-cut steaks hung over the fire, sizzling and dripping juices into the flames. The sacks of food were dumped beside a bedroll and a knapsack laid out by the fire. From the smell of things, the kid had been living rough a long time.

“U.S. Marshal… anyone here?” Jensen spread his hands wide, and rotated a full 360, carefully surveying the whole basement. Wolf knew the boy was crouched behind the woodpile in the corner near the bulkhead doors, but Jensen deliberately stopped at ninety degrees to the boy’s position. Jensen’s hunter instincts were on high alert, with the amount of fear coming off the kid, anything could set him off.

“Just trying to help you, kid, bring you in before you get yourself shot worse than what’ll heal. Besides, you need to come out here before your dinner burns.” If coaxing the kid didn’t work, Jensen had no compunction against trying his powers, and using his Alpha voice to get them both out of the situation in one piece.

“You lie!” The boy's scream was accompanied by the sound of ripping material as the young were shifted and launched himself at Jensen. Jensen dropped and spun, his wolf perfectly tracking the boy’s flight. Grabbing the young were by the throat out of mid-air, Jensen slammed him to the ground. The kid was momentarily stunned, giving Jensen time to shift his grip, bury his gloved hand in the fur at the nape of his neck, and shove his face to the floor before moving quickly to straddle the wolf’s body. The were struggled, jaws snapping, growling and bucking beneath him, but Jensen’s bulk held the smaller, skinny juvenile in place. Letting the were go on for a while and wear himself out, Jensen calmly reached for his silver cuffs and then leaned down close, growling _shift_ in the boy’s ear.

As had happened to him with Morgan, the young wolf’s bucking and clawing form changed almost instantly, shape flowing and shifting to be replaced by a kicking, crying, naked youth. With his knee in the middle of the boy's back to hold him in place, Jensen grabbed the flailing arms and slipped the cuffs on the struggling youth. When the silver lining of the cuffs touched his skin the boy screamed as if scalded. Jensen knew for a fact the silver packed a mean burn, but the kid would survive.

The youth continued to spit and scream, yelling, “How did you do that? And how did you heal my bullet wound? What the hell have you done to me?” Fear fairly crackled in the air and the boy’s heart was hammering like a drum.

Not wanting him any more scared than he already was, Jensen stood up, slowly releasing his hold on the boy’s neck. Lightning quick, the lad scrambled back out of reach and jumped to his feet to run. First he tried for the door but Jensen was already there. Undaunted, the kid darted toward the steps up to the house, but Jensen was there first, hands spread wide, Finally with nowhere to go, the boy danced backwards until his back hit the cellar wall. Jensen didn’t come any closer, and, exhausted and panting, the boy let his body slide down the wall, to land on his butt on the floor. Warily, he pulled his legs up in front of him to cover his nakedness, his gaze darting between Jensen and his arm, as he twisted it as much as his cuffed hands would allow. Jensen watched as the bullet wound finished sealing up.

“How’d you do that?” The kid wet his lips and repeated the question.

Jensen shrugged, “Just an old were trick: you shift, it aids your healing, simple as that. It won’t bring you back from the dead, but it sure can do a lot. Now calm down. I just want to help you.”

The kid snorted derisively, “No one wants to help me. They’re all afraid of me now.”

“Well I’m not. Now come over here, by the fire. Talk to me.” Jensen’s voice rumbled with Alpha strength.

Reluctantly the boy stood, watching to see if Jensen was going to let him, before he shuffled forward.

Jensen took a seat on an old cutting stump near the small campfire and gestured for the kid to take his place on his bedroll. “Come on kid, sit your butt down. If you behave yourself I’ll free your hands so we can get you into some new clothes. You can have your dinner and we can talk.”

“You’re not just going to arrest me?” the boy asked as he came up alongside him, tipping his head to side-eye Jensen balefully through his long, lank hair.

Jensen gave him a hard look. “Turn.” He ordered. When the kid reluctantly turned around, Jensen unlocked one cuff and pulled the boy over next to his bedroll. “Kneel down.” Fearful, the kid folded to his knees in front of the fire, but all Jensen did was attach the other cuff to the screw base of a metal lally column next to the stairs, leaving the boy one hand free.

“Burns…” The kid whined, rubbing his free wrist.

“It’s the silver lining. Also prevents you from shifting.”

Jensen rooted through the kid's pack and threw a shirt and jeans at him.

“Here, put these on.”

The kid tugged on the torn, ratty jeans Jensen had tossed him and pushed a skinny arm into one sleeve of the button up shirt.

“Dude?” The boy looked pointedly at his cuffed hand, tugging at the side of the shirt he was unable to put on.

Jensen frowned, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t want another throw down with the kid just to get him dressed. “We’re not going outside just yet. I think you’ll survive for now. Eat, then we’ll talk.” Jensen motioned toward the steak, sizzling and spitting over the fire. The smell of the cooking meat was delicious, and Jensen's wolf started to rumble at the scent. The kid stared at him for a while, then suddenly broke, grabbing up the stick that skewered the steak and pushing it onto a tin plate he’d had all ready and waiting for it.

Watching the boy eat gave new meaning to the term ‘wolfing it down.’ “Hey, easy,” Jensen was finally forced to say. “No one‘s going to take it away from you.”

“Yeah, sure.” The kid snorted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, law man.”

Jensen stared resolutely into the fire, refusing to talk until the boy had eaten his fill. He slowed, chewing the last few bites a bit more thoroughly before swallowing them down. Then, with a loud belch and a pointed expression, the kid looked up at Jensen.

“What’s your name son?”

“Rat.”

Jensen laughed. The kid was as outrageous as he was spunky. “That can’t be what your parents called you.”

“I don’t remember them, they died when I was just a baby. Car wreck, people told me. I've been on my own since I ran away from foster care when I was fifteen. I figured if I’m on my own I might as well have my own name.”

“You always been a were, son?” Jensen paused in his inspection of Rat’s backpack. The kid had a couple of lighters but no cigarettes, a white rabbit's foot, and a pretty bedraggled looking stuffed dog, along with a plastic pencil box filled with colored pencils. There were also two somewhat ratty, well-used sketchbooks. Jensen thumbed through the smaller of the two journals; it was filled with a mixture of graffiti designs, handwritten notes and character designs for what looked like some kind of comic book the kid was working on. The larger sketchpad was full of carefully done pencil portraits, mostly of other kids around Rat’s age, probably friends from school or, judging from the clothes he'd drawn, maybe the street. There were several sketches of older men and women, as well. Jensen hummed in approval, the kid had skills.

“I ain’t your fucking son, old man. And I don’t know, I guess. Never really knew until a couple of months ago.” Jensen said nothing and Rat poked at the fire for a while before finally offering, “I was in Florida. Thumbed my way there from New York. It was nice and warm there most of the year; easy to find customers.”

Rat scratched at his head absently and Jensen could imagine the filth in those dirty, lank locks. “He seemed pretty normal. Offered me fifty if I’d go back to the hotel with him. I hadn’t been feeling all that well. Almost hadn’t gone to work that night, but the money wasn’t going to make itself. I was looking forward to maybe a shower after, but when I was done blowing him, the fucker refused to pay me and went all crazy and shit, began beating me up. I started to feel all hot and shit.”

Jensen snorted derisively.

“No, not that way ya perve, like burning up hot.” Rat shot back, wrapping his arm around himself defensively and looking away. Jensen didn’t think the boy was even conscious that he’d started to rock back and forth.

His eyes clouded with memory, Rat tugged at the ragged remnants of the t-shirt still clinging around his neck. “Suddenly I just changed. Like BAM! Everything shifting and stretching, it was fucking gross and it hurt, sort of, but the best part was you should have seen the guy. He fucking flipped out, screaming, almost shit himself. I don’t know who was more scared, him or me. My wolf just… I wanted to get out of there, and I smashed through the motel window and took off. Woke up the next day, naked in an alley, human again. Found out after I got back to my place that it had been a full moon the night before. I guess that’s why I shifted.”

Jensen had continued going through the boy's pack while the kid spoke. Wolf couldn't scent any drugs on the boy but just in case, Jensen checked all the zips and pouches for drugs or weapons. Obviously unhappy Rat snarked, “Hey man, whatcha doin’, looking for a pair of my panties to sniff, or something?”

Jensen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Does this look like a pair of panties to you?” He lifted the snub-nosed revolver he’d found at the bottom of the knapsack up and sniffed it. If it had ever been fired, it had been a long time ago.

“Fuck,” Rat whispered, grimacing shaking his head. Jensen could make out the fine tremor in the boys body. Not as tough as he made out.

“So what happened then?” Jensen prompted the boy to continue his story.

“Well, I thought maybe I’d gotten high and imagined the whole thing, but then the next full moon, there I was, all furry, running through town like a maniac. Last thing I remember was almost eating a guy. I knew I had to get out of town, then, and fast. I’ve been moving north ever since, trying to get lost in the big outdoors. I seem happier out here anyway, the wolf part of me, at least. Knew I shouldn’ta' knocked over that diner. I smelled that old lady in the window, but I thought I’d sneaked past her.” He shrugged, before asking, “So, what are you going to do with me? Are you going to shoot me? Was that my last supper?” His cocky attitude wavered, just a little, and the last came out a little wistful. “Maybe I should have cooked two steaks.”

Jensen phoned in to the Townsend Sheriff’s Department and had the questionable luck of speaking with Deputy Wade. “I got him. We’re at 1649 Elder Rose Lane. Know where that is?”

“Yes, sure. So it’s dead then?”

Jensen’s hand tightened on the phone. He could get to very much dislike Deputy Wade. “Nah, the kid surrendered immediately. I’m taking him back to the Rez. Could you have one of your officers drive my Rover over? I want to start for there tonight. If it gets too late, Munter’s Gorge has a Division certified were cell. I can lay over there, and continue in the morning.

“Roger that, Marshal. I’ll drive it myself. See you in fifteen minutes or so.”

 

Through the now open cellar door, he saw the lights reflecting in the snow and heard the familiar engine of his Rover, and the Townsend squad car pulled up in front of the house, Jensen pulled Rat to his feet. He’d allowed the kid to put his shirt on the rest of the way, and then zip tied his hands behind his back. “Okay, nice and easy, out to the front. You’re going in the black Rover.” Jensen’s hand was firm on Rat’s arm, his other on his Taurus as he marched his prisoner outside. As Jensen walked Rat closer toward the Rover, Wade got out of the driver’s side and joined the officer of the cruiser standing by the squad cars doors.

“Stay back, I don’t want to risk him hurting anyone.” Jensen shouted to the officers.

Jensen had just opened the back door of the Rover to secure his prisoner when Rat suddenly flung himself sideways out of Jensen’s hold. It all happened so fast even Jensen had trouble tracking Rat's shift. Clothing shredded and the zip ties popped. Where the kid had been was a long, lanky young wolf, brown fur streaked with white, tearing away from Jensen. The young were streaked past the Rover, a pissed-off juggernaut of fur and fangs disappearing rapidly down the centerline on the street. Behind him Jensen could hear the two deputies start to run toward the truck, their view of the fleeing were blocked by his vehicle.

His Taurus already in his hand, Jensen stepped out from the Rover and bellowed, “Freeze! Or I’ll fire!” But the young wolf was running at full tilt. Bracing his arm, Jensen raised his service weapon, and without a second thought, exhaled, aimed, and fired. The high-pitched yelp Rat made as he jerked in mid-air and came crashing to the ground went straight to Jensen’s heart.

He took off in a run, racing to reach the boy. By the time he got there it was too late, the boy had already shifted, a naked, too-skinny youth left bruised and dirty in the wolf's wake. Jensen knelt down to check the boy's pulse, and then rose, shaking his head as Wade and the other officer skidded to a stop beside him.

“He’s dead. Damn it. If he’d only listened. I’d have had him on the Rez in a few hours. Stupid kid could have had a good life there.”

“Jesus,” Wade breathed. “It happened so fast. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Jensen nodded in acknowledgement. The speed and deadliness of a were never failed to impress him either, especially up close and personal. He exhaled raggedly and holstered his weapon. “Would you mind driving my truck over here? I have body bags in the back. I still need to take the body to the Rez, and log it in.”

“Sure thing. Fuck man, that was a good shot.” Wade slapped him on the back. “Took the little fucker down in one. Way to go, man.”

“Silver’s the trick, only thing that will stop ‘em cold.” Jensen’s skin crawled where the deputy had touched him. Wearily, Jensen ran his fingers through his hair, the gloves burning his scalp. “Yeah.”

Jensen looked pointedly toward the truck and Wade rushed to oblige. “I’ll get right on that, Marshal.”

It was full dark by the time they loaded Rat’s cooling corpse in the back of the truck, the lights on the cruiser still casting their falsely positive glow on the snowy banks of the old neighborhood. From a safe distance a few neighbors gathered on their doorsteps to watch the proceedings. Jensen went back to the basement to collect his knapsack and Stetson, and gather Rat’s few belongings. Wade followed him.

“For what it’s worth, most of Mel’s steaks are in a bag over there.” Jensen gestured toward the corner as he threw Rat’s few meager belongings into his knapsack. “Well, I guess that’s it, then.” Jensen looked around for anything else as Wade stomped out the sputtering fire.

“Do you get to do that often?” Wade’s eyes had a fanatical gleam to them as he followed Jensen outside.

“Do what?”

“Kill weres. I’ve been thinking of switching over to the Bureau, apply for fieldwork in the Division. Help wipe the last of the bastards off the face of the earth.”

Jensen nodded wearily. “Well, they’re always on the look out for new hunters.” He squinted at the man, “You ever kill anyone, son?”

Wade grimaced, “Well no. Not yet, anyhow. But hunting weres isn’t exactly like killing a person, now is it?”

“Hmm. Well, I might have thought so once, but they are still people. Our job as hunters is to make sure they stay where they belong, on the Rez. They leave, we take them back. Killing ‘em is never the first option, at least, not if you want to work for the Division.”

Wade sputtered, back pedaling, “Well, yes, of course.”

Reaching the Rover, Jensen stowed his gear in the back seat. “Well, thank you deputies, for your help.” Jensen gave Wade and the other officer a tight smile as he shook hands with both of them. “Not the best ending, but at least no one else got hurt. Give my best to Deputy Buckmaster.”

 

Jensen drove for half an hour, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He couldn’t get over the look of hunger on Wade’s face when he talked about killing weres. Had that been him? Had he been that rabid about killing werewolves? Jensen shook his head wearily. No, that had never been him, he’d always been about taking them back to the rez, secure in the sense of rightness that they belonged there, and humans belonged everywhere else. It was replaced now by dread at the thought of someone like Wade coming after Jared, or someone else he loved.

Traffic had dwindled to the odd transport and it was well past eleven o’clock by the time Jensen pulled over to the side of the road. He went to the back of the truck and pulled down the tailgate to check the body. Unzipping the bag, he stared at the were’s pale face in the moonlight.

He wondered how much of a mistake he had just made by doing Williams' bidding today. Jensen sent up a little prayer that he had not just made the biggest mistake of his life and just put the whole pack in danger, as Rat’s eyelids fluttered open.

“You did what?” Morgan stared at Jensen in absolute incredulity. “Are you out of your God damned mind?”

“What was I supposed to do? You tell me. What was I supposed to do? Take the kid to the Rez? To die of uranium poisoning? I tried, but I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t, Jeff. I kept seeing Colin's and Colby’s faces. It’s not right, and you know it.”

“Funny, you’ve been doing it for years, and now that you’ve been a were for what, all of four months? Suddenly you’re an expert on what’s right and wrong?” Morgan slammed his fist down on the scarred kitchen table, making the salt and pepper rattle, his voice growing in volume. “Jesus, what were you thinking?”

“Fuck you, Jeff.” Jensen turned to look out the kitchen window at the Rover outside in the yard, Jeff’s words cutting him.

“No, I’m serious, Jensen. Look at me.” The Alpha rumble in Jeff’s voice had Jensen turning to face him. Jensen knew there were tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. Guilt at the thought of what he’d done, what he’d continued to do in total ignorance for all these years. How many other kids had he shipped off to the Rez? Why was this one so different?

“Now, suddenly, you know so much about Pack that you’ve turned into Doctor Doolittle, dragging every stray were you meet back to us? He is a danger, Jensen. Don’t you see that?”

Jensen’s chin dropped to his chest, shamefaced. Everything Jeff said was right, but stubbornly Jensen clung to the idea that this was the right thing to do.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m a fool, that you’re right? That I risked everything you’ve managed to create here on the freedom of one boy? You’re right. But I’m right, too. I can’t just hide here in Munter’s Gorge with what I know now. I can’t. And I can’t pretend to be the Marshal I was a few months ago. So I brought the boy.”

“You brought him here? Jesus kid, you’re killin’ me, here.”

“I made him wear a blindfold. He’s handcuffed in the car, he doesn’t even know where he is. If we can’t find a place for him, I’ll leave. I’ll take him somewhere.”

“Where, Jensen? He’s seen your face. He knows who you are.” Jeff’s angry visage was right in front of him, alpha rage barely controlled. “You fool.” Jeff ran his hand over his face, rubbing at his beard.

Jensen closed his eyes. If he left now, maybe he could make it to Canada, cross the lines before the Bureau was notified, or rent a car... At the very least if he got close enough to the border the kid could shift and slip across himself. Jensen could meet up with him on the other side, give him some money. Bribe him to stay away for his own good and Jensen’s. The kid was so green he hadn’t even put one and two together yet, that Jensen was a were. Exhaling raggedly, Jensen started to turn toward the door.

The Alpha’s hand landed heavy on Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen’s shoulders slumped in defeat as Jeff made him turn to look him in the face.

“You're a fool, Jensen.” Jeff chewed on his lip. “And so am I. I wanna meet this kid. What’s his name?”

“Rat.”

“You’re messing with me. That’s the kids real name?”

Jensen shrugged.

“Well, let’s go out and talk to him.”

Jensen sagged in relief and turned toward the front door. When he did, he noticed Kim was standing on the staircase to the second floor. She was staring over Jensen’s shoulder at Jeff.

“So how much of that did you get?” Morgan said quietly.

Kim stared at him, her expression stern. “All of it.”

“We’re risking everything.” Morgan shook his head. “This one kid could take us all down.” Jensen wanted to step outside, not really wanting to witness an argument between his Pack Alpha and Beta, but somehow was unable to move.

Kim walked down the rest of the stairs and laid her small hand over Jeff’s heart and leaned in against him. Her voice was soft when she next spoke.

“But he won’t.”

“How do you know that?” Morgan rumbled, lacing the fingers of his hand through hers. He looked down at his mate, a small, sad half smile on his face, his eyes tender.

“Because he’s Pack, and because he’ll have a great Alpha.” Kim lifted her head proudly and smiled into her alpha’s eyes.

Morgan’s hand slipped around to cradle the back of her head as he leaned in to kiss his mate.

Jensen could feel the love and confidence radiating from their bond. He turned his head to give them some privacy. Thinking of his own mate and Jared’s unwavering support through all of his own challenges, Jensen reached out through his own bond to touch his own mate. With the distance separating them, all Jensen could feel was warm reassurance, but somehow it was enough.

“I love you,” Morgan murmured when their lips finally slid apart.

“And I love you, don’t you ever doubt it. But you have to go out there and find out that kid’s real name, because there’s no way in hell I’m calling him Rat.”

 

Sliding wearily between the sheets, Jensen pressed himself up against the warm length of his mate’s body, Jared's legs almost instantly became entwined with his the moment he slid into bed. He sighed in relief and wrapped his arms around Jared, luxuriating in the calming aura surrounding his mate. It was still dark outside, but sunrise was near, soon warm tendrils of light would begin to seep through the eastern sky as it gradually lightened, and Jared would be waking to leave for work.

He was completely exhausted, still, sleep eluded him for the moment. Jensen lay listening to Jared breathing, the adorable snuffling sound he made when he was fast asleep. Jensen breathed out, and tried to will himself to relax, letting his head settle in the juncture of Jared’s neck and shoulder, breathing in Jared’s scent.

It had been a brutally long day, followed by an even longer night at the settlement, but Morgan had been spectacular with the boy, strong and firm, but approachable, coaxing the kid's story out of him in fits and starts. The boy, Rat —Dylan Everett — his real name finally coming out at some point in the evening, had been on his own so long it had been like dealing with a feral cat. Or wolf, as the case might be.

The boy had dropped out of school at fifteen after running away from his abusive foster home. Jerry, the latest in a series of loser foster dads, had been the worst of the bunch, a drunk and a bully, beating on his wife and any of the foster kids who tried to stand up to him. Things had gotten ugly at the home on more than one occasion, until Dylan had ended up in the hospital with two broken ribs. Rather than move to a new foster home and start the whole ugly cycle all over again, he’d headed out on his own.

It was unusual for a were to take so long to present, but considering Dylan had been in the car crash when his parents died, at the age of four, Morgan believed it might have sent him into shock, similar to Aaron's experience, only in reverse. At the death of his pack, his wolf had shut down, and only come out years later, when Dylan’s life was in danger. Cut off from his past and from contact with any other weres, young Dylan hadn’t even known he was a were.

Jensen could sympathize. Had his own grandparents not been there to take him in after his family had been slaughtered, he might have suffered a similar fate. As it was, his grandmother had passed away within a year of Jensen moving in. It had been him and his grandfather for the next eleven years. Jensen had been seventeen, old enough to stay in their home, taking care of himself when his grandfather had died. The small inheritance they left had given him the choice to go to university and choose a career he wanted. Without them, Jensen could easily have gone down the same path as Dylan.

“Mmm you’re home.” Jared’s voice was muzzy with sleep.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Jensen kissed his mate’s cheek.

“You were thinking too loud.” Eyes still firmly shut, a soft smile split Jared’s face.

“Yeah...guilty as charged.” Jensen rubbed his chin against the top of Jared’s head and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the soft thrum of the mating bond between them, sensing the calm and loving thoughts radiating off Jared. His mate rumbled sleepily. “Long day?"

Jared yawned and Jensen had the sudden urge to yawn as well, as exhaustion kicked in, everything starting to catch up with him.

“Yeah…”

“So come on, spill…”

Jensen chuckled, “I don’t know. I was in such a good space, when I thought it was Winters or Foldbrook. I was ready for anything they could throw at me. But then it was suddenly way harder than I thought. I don’t know what I thought, really. How I thought I’d feel.” Jensen knew he was rambling. His arms wrapped around Jared, he started to rub small circles along Jared’s arms.

“Mmmm.” Jared hummed in sympathy.

“I didn’t know what I was walking into. I was so stupid, short sighted. Then the kid…”

“What kid?” Jared’s eyelids fluttered open. “I thought this was Winters or Foldbrook hiding out there?”

“Well it wasn’t. It was a kid. Not a little kid, a teenager. And I tracked him, like I was trained to. It was so easy with Wolf’s help, and him green as grass, totally unaware. Like shooting ducks in a barrel. Then I came face to face with him, and I couldn't do it, I couldn’t turn him in. Jay, I risked the safety of the whole pack and brought him here.”

Jared didn’t answer at first, then rolled in the cage of Jensen’s arms until he was looking into Jensen’s eyes, no longer sleepy, a serious, thoughtful look on his face. Without speaking he leaned in and kissed Jensen slowly, tenderly on the lips and then leaned back so he could see his face. The pink tip of his tongue wet his lips before he spoke. “Did it feel right?”

Jensen’s mouth tightened, and he looked away. “I thought so, but then…”

“No ‘but then.’ Did you want this kid to go to the Rez? Knowing now what you know about the place?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then you’ve answered your own question. You had no choice. Do you trust your gut?”

“Well I used to, but look how wrong I’ve been proven so far. Half my life fighting for the wrong side.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Did you know who was good and who was bad? Who wanted to gut you and leave you dead, and who was a victim? That’s the gut instinct I’m talking about, and yours has always worked for you. And if you don’t think you can trust your gut yet, trust your wolf. He was in agreement?”

“Yeah, he was.”

“You think Munter’s Gorge always had this many weres? The pack has grown by taking chances. There’ve been some bad apples, but most of the time, we’re the better for it. Morgan thought I was right about you.”

Jensen swallowed, hard. “What the hell does that mean?”

“If Morgan hadn’t had a good feeling about you, he would have done something. There wouldn’t have been any bully tactics or grand displays like Pellegrino, but you would have been taken care of. You would have woken up on the Rez and never known how you got there, and no one would have batted an eye. When we came back from the cave, that was your interview to become a member of the pack.”

“Wouldn’t it have been nice for me to know that going in?” Jensen stared at Jared in shock. “And where would that have left you, if I was sent away?” Jensen’s arms unconsciously tightened around Jared.

“I never really thought about it.”

Jensen started to speak but Jared only shushed him, “Don’t go all protective alpha on me. I don’t have a death wish. I knew you could be good for us, for me, and that Morgan would see that, given half a chance. And you have good instincts, too. Trust in them. Sounds to me like this kid must have had a rough time.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Then he needs a strong pack like ours to keep him safe. Good alphas to watch over him, give him examples to emulate.” Jared tucked his head into Jensen’s chest and closed his eyes. Jensen could tell by the change in his breathing when he drifted back to sleep. He had at least another hour before he had to get up.

Jensen lay there and watched the sky lighten, thinking about how his life had changed. He thought about Dylan, and he liked the idea of looking out for him. Jensen wondered just how many other homeless weres like him were out there. Then Dylan’s face shifted to Colin’s and he was left with an overwhelming sense of guilt. The weres in the Rez, who was their champion? Who was keeping them safe?

 

Comments always appreciated ^^


	6. The Forge — Covering Tracks

 

 

 

“Hell of a thing.”

“Yeah, it was.” Jensen replied, taking a thoughtful swallow of his coffee.

“You alright? I don’t want you cracking up over this kid because of me.” Williams voice sounded worried over the phone.

“No. He just didn’t leave me any choice, you know?”

“Yeah, sometimes our job sucks. Speaking of undesirable tasks, what did you do with the boy’s body? You didn’t leave it unattended in Townsend”

“No, of course not. Honestly, I couldn’t stay there another day. I couldn’t hack it, so I took the body home, stored it in the secure morgue at the office. The sheriff is going to look after all the details, I’ll witness the cremation and sign off on the certificate later today. I’ll send you a copy with my report.”

“Okay. It’s a little irregular, but as long as we get it all tidied ASAP, I don’t think the director will have a problem with that. But you know Omundson, the guy goes around with a rule book in his hand and a stick up his ass. Don’t want to be getting on the man's bad side.”

“Have I finally, after all these years, found someone that you’re actually scared of?”

“Puh–leease.” Williams said archly.

“Ha! I knew it. I can smell blood in the water.” Jensen smiled fondly into the receiver, his eyes crinkling in mirth. Everyone knew what Omundson was like. The man was downright scary. They still couldn’t figure out why he’d been promoted to Bureau chief over so many more qualified men.

“So, you think you’re still on schedule or are you going to need a few more days before you come on down? I got something I want to run past you.”

“Oh, not going to just come out and ask me?” At Williams' determined silence, Jensen huffed dramatically, “Fine, keep your secrets for now. I know you, you’ll spill as soon as I get there. For the trip, I better double check with Beaver first, and let you know. Don’t kill the fatted lamb just yet.” Jensen chuckled.

“Just for that, I think I’ll invite Omundson to your going away party.”

“Ouch. Okay! And, on that note, I'll talk to you later.”

 

Jensen hung up the phone and finished the last of his coffee. Jared had already headed in to the bakery before Jensen had woken up, but he had left a note next to a pot of fresh brewed coffee.

_Tonight…you, me and a good bottle of wine in front of the fireplace. I’ve missed you._

_xx_

_Jay_

 

 

Division procedure was quite strict on the disposal of were bodies. During the Great War when they hadn’t quite understood how lycanthropy was passed on, they had treated all were bodies like biohazard. The practice had never really changed much over the years, even once they knew better. Regs stated a were body had to be cremated within twenty four hours of death on a Reservation or an authorized funeral home. Fortunately, Munter’s Gorge had one of the few certified funeral homes in the area and according to Jeff the director, Kevin McNally, was were friendly. The only thing was, Jensen hadn’t yet talked to Jim about this little favor he needed help with.

 

“You did what?”

Jensen sighed. It was like a replay of his conversation with the Alpha. He eased the door to Jim’s office closed, not that it would make much of a difference to any of the were officers that suddenly seemed to find something to do around Shelley’s desk. As Jim’s part time secretary and the department’s dispatcher, her workstation was just outside Jim’s door.

“What in the Sam hell were you thinking?” Jim strode over to the door Jensen had discreetly tried to close and flung it wide. “And you bunch of nosy parkers get your asses out of here and get to work.” Shelly dived into her paperwork, and several deputies suddenly found work of interest elsewhere. Jensen used his hand to cover the smile on his face.

“Now, where were we? And don’t think I don’t know you’re laughin’ at me over there. Right! You want me to what?”

“I need you to talk to Kevin McNally at the funeral home and ask him if he’ll do up the paperwork for a were cremation.”

“One that ain’t actually gonna happen because you brought the kid here. Brilliant, Einstein. And what if this catches up with you, with us?”

“It won’t. Well, it shouldn’t.” Jensen grimaced. “What was I supposed to do, kill the kid?”

“No, you were supposed to haul his scrawny ass to the Rez like you been doing for years. What’s so special about this kid?” Jim’s pale blue gaze demanded the truth.

“He’s had a hard time of it, and having been there, I couldn’t see sending him to that hellhole. Could you?”

Jim pulled his PD ball cap off his head and swore softly. “No, probably not. So I guess we’re stuck with him, then. Fine!”

“Good. And will you talk to Kevin for me? I need to have this tidied up today. You and I both have to witness.”

“I’ll call him right now. We’ll both have to go over there and sign, so the paperwork can be emailed out from the funeral home. I’ll call you when things are ready. And, I think that means you owe me lunch.” Jim shook his head wearily, “Damn reckless kids today.” as he picked up the phone.

“I heard that.” Jensen couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he left Jim’s office.

“You were meant to. Oh hello, Milly.Is Frank there…?” 

After catching up on his paperwork, Jensen drove over to Main street and parked only a few spots down from the Iron Ridge Woolen Company shop. Bells chimed merrily overhead when he opened the door, and the two clerks inside looked up in greeting.

“Hello Marshal!” Sam Ferris looked up from the rack she was restocking. The store manager smiled fondly at him.

“Gonna be just Deputy, soon.” Jensen took off his Stetson and gazed around, “Oz around?”

“Yes,” She replied. “He’s just upstairs in his office. Go on ahead, you know the way.”

“Any news on my custom piece? Time’s counting down.”

Marcy, the main purchasing agent for Iron Ridge, looked up from her computer at the main cash, “Don’t you worry, Marshal. It’ll be here next week, in plenty of time.”

“’Kay, I’m counting on you ladies.” Jensen grinned and headed upstairs.

As expected, Osric was on the phone in his glass walled office. The door was open, so Jensen leaned on the doorjamb and waited for him to finish up. “What do you mean I won’t have my dyes in time? Listen, we’ve got twelve tons of yarn in the warehouse and we need those dyes. If we don’t get production underway soon, it could ruin our winter season. And you know me, I don’t want to have to find another vendor. Do what you can, okay Chad?”

“Winter? Isn’t that just about over?” Jensen ducked his head into Osric’s office once he saw him hang up the phone. “You have time to talk?”

“Sure, come on in. I wanted to hear how things went.” Oz typed a note into his laptop before he swiveled around and stood to greet Jensen, a peevish look still on his face, “Yeah, winter. Surprisingly, that makes spring one of our busiest times of the year. We need our wool supply dyed now to have our fall line of sweaters completed in time. It’s crazy, but we work almost a year ahead on seasonal items.”

Oz stepped out into the hallway, and hollered to one of the designers working on the floor. “Hey, Vicky, hold all my calls, okay?”

“Will do! Hey, can you answer one question first?” Vicky, Iron Ridge's newest website designer called back and Oz grinned at Jensen, “Would you mind?” At Jensen’s nod he said, “Take a seat, this will only take a minute.”

Vicky had floated into town a month ago and applied for the part time job working with Taylor. Osric said she was the bomb, and the job soon turned into full time. She also happened to be a werewolf, turned by a bite a few years ago.

Jensen was amazed to find out how many people that had happened to. It was safe to say the Division had no idea what was going on as far as turning rates went, or how to stop it. Jensen had assumed Oz had landed at the Gorge because of a similar circumstance. That was until Osric casually set him straight on one of their first of several meetings, “Nah! I’m 100 percent Grade-A human. My boyfriend Joshua goes furry, though. We met in San Francisco a couple of years ago, when he was going to school.”

Osric leaned back in his chair and snatched up the picture of a young red haired man and angled it toward Jensen with a soft smile. “What can I say, I’ve got a weakness for redheads. Cute little puppy caught my eye and I had to take him home. Josh is originally from here, and after he finished school and got his law degree a year or two ago, we moved back here. Can’t say I regret anything, the Iron Ridge pack has taken me in like a long lost son. Of course,” Osric had grinned conspiratorially and checked that his glass door was fully closed, “It doesn’t hurt that I’m one of the best hackers on the West Coast.”

Jensen had already heard Oz was a coding genius and, from what Sam Ferris had told him, the man had revolutionized the Company's marketing efforts, and singlehandedly brought the pack and its Iron Ridge Woolen company into the twenty first century. In less than a year he had streamlined their processes, doubled their orders, and hiked their profit margin.

One night at Kane’s after a few cold ones, Osric had waited until it was only the two of them at the table and said, “So what’s it like to be a changed man? I’m thinking of letting Josh do it to me. He’s too much of a gentleman to ask,” Osric took a quick swig of his beer and gazed unseeing out at the stage. “But I see the way he looks at me on nights he goes out on a run and I can’t shift with him. He’s gorgeous when he changes, too, reddish brown fur and such a noble face…I really wanted to know how you are likin’ it? Any regrets?”

Fortunately Kane had returned to the table just then from a set and the conversation had been put to an abrupt end, but Jensen had thought long and hard about it. Did he have any regrets? And, under his own steam, would he ever have considered letting himself be turned? Even for Jared? The question kind of brought him up short. To this day, he was still thinking his way through to an answer.

Jensen strolled into Oz’s office, a stylish glass cube in the middle of the workroom floor, and looked around. He hung his Stetson on the old fashioned coat rack by the door and settled into a designer leather chair more at home in MOMA than the cozy confines of the Woolen Company offices. He wasn’t here today for advice on a website, or a chance to buy Iron Ridge Company stock. He was here to continue their ongoing conversation about the tech he needed to go back inside the Bureau of Werewolf Affairs and, more importantly, make it back out again intact. The kind of grey market tech that would keep him free and undetected amongst his fellow hunters, the kind of tech he had absolutely no idea how to acquire on his own. But Oz did.

Osric returned shortly and closed the thick glass office doors behind him. Jensen could feel the pressure on his ears as the room sealed, only soundproof air ducts providing ventilation. The custom glass walls put Jim’s office to shame. No sound was going in or out if Chau didn’t want it to. And with a touch of a button on the black slab that served as Oz’s desk, the glass polarized, frosting over, blocking out curious onlookers.

Osric dropped into his seat and stared at him expectantly. “So? How’d it go? How’d everything work?”

“The gun was flawless, a little tingly on the sides of the trigger, but that’s no problem. The gloves still burn when I take them off. I can’t hold them in my hand for too long, but I can work around that.” Jensen chewed at his bottom lip, “It all seems pretty doable if we can just get them to ignore the elephant in the room, the complete lack of scarring on my hands and arms when I finally do take the damn things off.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Osric scoffed as he tapped on his keyboard a few times and a series of Department of Werewolf Affairs photos of Jensen scarred hands and arms filled his screens. “Obviously, you can’t wear your gloves the whole time you’re there. Anyone who knew you from before would notice the change the first time they caught sight of your hands… but I am brilliant, after all. So I thought I’d ask around, see if we could go at it from another angle.” Oz swiveled his chair and dug into some shelves in a massive credenza behind his desk.

“Friend of mine came up with this.” Osric laid an 8 x 14 sheet of white film on the desk. On it, was a translucent hand-shaped outline, like one side of a vinyl glove, with red groves and gouges and ripples on it. It lay there like a wounded jellyfish.

Dubious, Jensen arched his brow.

“Hang on, hang on…It’s called tech skin.” Excitedly, Osric motioned him closer to the sheet of film. “You lay your hand over this and it reacts to you, molding over the skin of your hand completely. It was designed for high tech workers in labs that work with precious minerals, like gold, but there are a ton of side applications.” At Jensen’s puzzled expression, Oz continued, “With gold becoming so rare, workers were literally smuggling micro amounts out of the foundry in their fingerprints. This film covers the hand, but at a micro thin layer that is completely unnoticeable to the naked eye. At the end of each shift the workers turn in their ‘skins,’ and the company recycles it for the gold or other rare earth minerals. The real stuff is usually bright pink, so the workers don’t sneak off with the skins still on, but we got our hands on some raw stock and a 3-D printer.”

Jensen peered closer, and glanced at the Bureau’s photos of his hands, taken for identification purposes if he was killed or injured. He could see the tech skin closely matched the photographs.

Osric’s voice literally vibrated with excitement as he continued to speak. “We mapped out all your old injuries into a 3-D model, thanks to these shots, and were able to replicate the exact look, feel, and location of all of your old scars. A bit of custom hand tinting and, voila, we’ve got ourselves a perfect replica. Once applied it should mold seamlessly to your skin and be completely undetectable. Oh yeah and fringe benefit… it’ll protect you from silver burns too, so no worries about your gloves, or even your badge.”

Oz grinned like he’d just won first prize at the science fair, “Pretty cool, right? Just what the doctor ordered. Go ahead, lay the back of your hand on it. It’s smart plastic, so it will form around your hand and wrist and line itself up.” Osric leaned back in his chair as Jensen moved closer. He blinked, this innocuous hand shaped film could potentially be the key to everything.

Lining the back of his hand as close as he could with the print, he pressed down. At first nothing happened, but as the plastic warmed to his skin it began to move like something alive. He jerked, Osric cooed, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s finding its proper co-ordinates.”

Jensen held perfectly still as it flowed over the back of his hand and along the back of his fingers and then fingertips, finally wrapping over toward the palm of his hand. When the rippling sensation stopped, he lifted his hand off the release sheet to look. The plastic hand print had seamlessly molded to the back of his hand and wrist. Turning his hand over to examine his palm, he found it near indistinguishable from his own flesh. And what on the release sheet had looked like weird translucent blobs, but in place, took the form of his long familiar scars and keloids from his childhood burns. He shivered in remembrance as he touched familiar grooves and dips in his flesh. They looked perfectly natural. This was no sloppy Hollywood glue on appliance. It was perfect.

“Impressive.” Jensen gazed at Osric and nodded his head in congratulations.

“Now of course there is a second set of skin tech to go on your palm. That will protect you from any silver you might touch, as well as replicate any scaring that was there as well. Only downside, you’ll have to wear a shirt the entire time of your visit as we’ve only got your forearms and hands covered.”

“How is this even legal?” Jensen couldn’t stop touching the newly applied skin tech, even the texture felt right.

“Well, they can take your fingerprints with it on, so it’s not hiding your identity. Up until now, it hasn’t had any illegal applications. When they came up with this idea I can’t imagine anyone was really thinking about putting a nice micro layer of plastic between a were’s skin and anything silver let alone adding scars. Most people want them removed.” Osric clicked his mouse and the images of Jensen’s hands on his computer screens closed. “As far as ninety nine percent of the world is concerned, it’s a protective cover for your palm, in the case of abrasive or toxic materials. The rare metal recovery is its real bread and butter, but I could see it migrating into the drug trade as well.”

Jensen pulled out his badge and laid the back of his hand on his silver star. He glanced over at Osric, “I can’t even feel it! This is perfect for when I go through the security gates at headquarters; my handprint is scanned on a silver surface.” Jensen shook his head in astonishment. “How long will it last?”

“Should be good for twenty four hours, they may last longer but why take the risk. I’d change it every morning so it’s fresh, for security. The material is pretty durable, but no fights, or even scratches. I’ve got you ten sets for your projected four to five day stay in Dallas. And when you want to take it off you scratch just above the wrist until you catch on the edges, and just peel. You can flush them, they biodegrade after use.”

“Now the only thing I have to worry about is the blood test.”

“Now that was the easy one.” Oz waved his hand dismissively. “All we need for that is some old fashioned trickery. A fake finger cup with a small sample of blood in it. You’re AB negative, right?” At Jensen’s nod, Osric continued. “The pin prick test at the entrance only takes a tiny amount of blood, and we give it to them. This fake tip goes on over the hand film and you dispose of it as soon as you can. It won’t hold up under close scrutiny, but the gates have hundreds of people going in and out of them at peak times. You just arrive at nine o’clock, and you’re good.”

Jensen shook his head in amazement. There was no way he could have pulled any of this off on his own. He wouldn’t have known where to start. “Osric, I gotta say, I owe you big time.”

“Not so fast there, Marshal. There is an off chance they’ll ask for a real blood sample. I can’t do anything about that. All I can do is hack the lab's systems and swap out the results. I already know the two labs they use.”

Osric pulled open a side drawer and took out a cell phone and passed it to Jensen. “I’ve set this up for you, it’s completely secure and has all our local numbers already in. Whatever you do, don’t try to call any of us inside the building or on your Bureau cell, it’ll be monitored. Once you’re at home or at least five miles from the Bureau you can use this secure phone to contact myself or Jared, you should use that for any personal conversations from now on anyway. Who knows who could be listening in.”

Turning the phone on Osric gave him a quick tour including his new contacts list. “I’ve set up this email contact for an old friend of yours, Sam Rogers, you worked with him years ago and he’s retired now in Dallas. If your blood is tested simply write to his email here as soon as you’re back in your office, request you do lunch with Sam while you’re in town if he’s free. Sam will never get this email, but I will, and the name will check out on a quick search if anyone at the bureau is watching. That will serve as your signal that you’re just had a blood test. As a backup, I’ll already be monitoring the labs systems but I’d appreciate a heads up.”

Jensen’s eyes widened, he hadn’t even considered his local calls as a potential problem. “I was so careful with all my calls to the bureau, but some of the things I’ve said over the phone locally!”

“No worries Marshal, that’s why they pay me the big bucks I have all the cell towers in the Gorge secured, but outside here the secure phone is the only option. Don’t panic, follow the protocol I just laid out and you should be fine.”

Jensen blew out a shaky breath as he pocketed the new phone. “Sounds like you’ve got every contingency more than covered.”

Osric nodded and smiled, “Hey, we’re all in this together, right? With a bit of luck, this should go smooth as silk.”

Jensen turned his hand back and forth his brow furrowed, “Could I get onto the Rez with this?”

“Well, nothing mechanical should give you away, but from the sound of things, there are potentially hundreds of weres that would pick up your scent. Even with the dampeners I’ve already given you, they only stand up to standard equipment, not a real wolf’s nose. All it would take is one were looking to curry favour to narc on you.”

Jensen’s expression grew grim, “Yeah, I hear you.” He ran his hand over the tech skin and shook his head. He never would have guessed that Jared changing him would have removed all his scars, yet another unexpected gift of shifting. He wondered what other possible medical cures shifting might help with.

Jensen turned back to Osric and reached to shake his hand. “Oz, I’ve got to hand it to you, you are the master of tech. I owe you, man. Honestly, this is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Of course it is.” Oz grinned, returning the handshake. “I’ll have everything ready for pick up by tomorrow, and we’ll do a dry run applying the skin tech on both sides. You’ll be fine, those hunters will never suspect a thing, trust me.”

“Believe me, I am.” Jensen couldn’t wipe the relieved smile off his face as he picked at where he thought the edge of the skin tech was and, after some experimenting, finally got the protective plastic to peel off. Leaving the crumpled sample with Osric, he grabbed his hat and left Oz’s office, waving to everyone as he left the store. This was all actually doable now.

The ring of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts.

Jensen answered on the second ring, “Ackles here.”

“McNally’s ready for you. Can you meet us in his office in half an hour?” Beaver's gruff voice in his ear wasted no time on pleasantries. “And if I were you, I’d bring a bottle of single malt. The good stuff.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Jim was about to leave for the Funeral home when Shelly put through a call.

“You know I got to be leaving Shell…” Jim yelled as he set his jacket aside muttering, “Balls!” as he sat back down to take the call. “Sheriff Beaver here.”

“How do, Jim? Am I interrupting anything? You sound kind of out of breath.”

“Well I got to get over the funeral home, there’s a were body we have to be disposing of this afternoon and I’m running late. What can I do for you, Jeff?”

“Hmm. Serious stuff. Well I don’t want to keep you, I just wanted to invite you to dinner. There’s something I’d like to talk to you and the Marshal and Jared about. Some options I’d like to discuss.”

Jim was silent for a few seconds. When he finally replied his tone was skeptical, “Like what kind of options? Like what color I might choose to repaint my office options, or I’m going to land in San Quentin for twenty years options?”

“Well hopefully something less drastic than that. I’d like you all together before I get into the details. Dinner would be at the J’s place actually, it’s nice and private up there.”

“Aww, that’s cute, you’ve given them a couple nickname.”

Jeff chuckled, “Shut up you old coot. Anyway, are you up for it? The boys are in, it just needs to be soon.”

“Well how soon is that?” Jim chuckled.

“All I know is, Williams wants Jensen to head back to the Bureau next week to formalize his retirement, and I’d like to speak to you both before then.”

“Well my dance card isn’t too full, except Wednesdays. I bowl on Wednesdays.”

Jim could sense the smile on Jeff’s face when he replied. “Well we wouldn’t want to interfere with that, now would we? I’ll see if I can set it up for Friday.”

 

McNally was a nervous, twitchy little man, not what Jensen would typically associate with a Funeral Director, with his tie askew and a badly fitting suit. Drops of sweat pebbling his forehead and upper lip, he’d signed the Bureau form begrudgingly. “You know I could lose my license for this? Maybe even go to prison. Why, there was a case in Wyoming where the undertaker was keeping bodies for his own…amusement, and that guy got twenty years. What could I get for falsifying the death of a were? Christ, no one will ever see me again.”

Leaning in, Jim patted the man on the back and glanced pointedly over at Jensen before penning his own signature on the witness line. Taking the hint, Jensen grabbed three coffee cups from the sideboard and poured a finger of the Aberlour he’d stopped to pick up on the way into each mug and passed them out. McNally gulped his down in one shot and thrust the mug back into Jensen’s hands for a second round.

Eyebrows raised, Jensen obliged, pouring the man two fingers this time. McNally’s hands shook as he took the mug.

“Kevin, come on, you think we’d put you in that kind of danger? It’s just a dumb kid who hadn’t done anything. Besides, everyone thinks he’s dead and no one’s going to come looking for him. We’ll use the fingerprints off that John Doe we found frozen in the river last year on the file. Nothing popped when I ran those prints, they were clean, and I never entered them on the Doe's file, said he was too decomposed to get a good match. So, if the kid ever is picked up, the prints won’t match up. There's nothing to lead anybody back to you. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

“Jesus, Jim, you make it sound so easy, but this… You’ve taken things to a whole new level of risk, here. I—I can’t do this again. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.” McNally clutched at his chest. “I get along with weres, and all. You know I got nothing against them, hell my brother in law is one. But this isn’t the same as burying a body and not letting the government know it was a were I put six feet under. We’re talking fugitive, here.” McNally hiccupped, starting to hyperventilate. Jim pushed McNally's head down between his legs, still mumbling, “I could end up a fugitive!”

“Easy there, Dr. Kimble. Just breathe, you’ll be okay.”

 

Talking McNally down took another two hours. Pulling his PD ball cap down over his head as they left the funeral home, Jim muttered. “Well, that sure could have gone better.”

 

Jensen spent the rest of the afternoon writing his report and collecting the requisite forms to submit, along with the death certificate, to the Bureau. It was late by the time everything was tidied up, and he was free for his last self-appointed task of the day, to drive out to the settlement and talk to Morgan. He needed to let his Alpha know ‘Rat’ was officially dead, and see for himself how Dylan was settling in. What he didn’t expect was to barely dodge a flying sneaker as he walked through the alpha’s front door.

“You can’t make me!”

Jensen struggled to keep the smile off his face as the teenage wail of angst filled the house.

“I’ll only take a minute. I need to see if this will fit you. Just try it on.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

Jensen lingered in the hall, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, in no particular rush to enter either the room, or the fray.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re there,” Kim said without looking at Jensen, exasperation in her voice.

“I won’t wear that,” Dylan said mulishly, looking at the white shirt Kim was holding up in front of him to gauge the size. Kim looked over at Jensen beseechingly.

“What’s so awful?”

A now clean and presentable Dylan whirled when he heard Jensen’s low baritone. Jensen looked the kid over, Kim had done a great job getting him cleaned up. The dark dyed ‘Goth’ rinse was gone and his hair was clearly several shades lighter now, edging on dirty blond, free of grease and neatly trimmed. Dressed in a pair of Morgan’s jeans and an old rock band t-shirt, no one would ever suspect Jensen had yanked this kid out of a dingy basement only a day ago.

“That shirt, it’s white! I can’t wear white.” Dylan insisted.

Jensen puzzled on that one for a minute. “Okay, I’ll bite…why not?”

“Cause it’ll get dirty.” Dylan said it in the ‘Duh, you idiot’ tone teenagers around the world had honed to perfection. Hanging the shirt on a hook on the pantry door, Kim threw her hands in the air before heading over to start the kettle.

“You’re not on the streets anymore, Dylan. You’re living in a house, where you can have regular showers and clean clothes all the time.” Jensen winked at Kim, “Well, that is if you keep on Kim’s good side. Otherwise, you’re going to have to learn how to use the washer and dryer all on your own.”

“Coffee, Jensen?” Kim asked sweetly, just barely keeping a snicker in check.

“Sure, I would love a cup. I’m actually here to see the Alpha.”

“He was called over to the dam. One of the turbines is acting up, and it’s affecting our power supply. He should be back in a couple of hours.”

Jensen scowled at that news. He was supposed to have dinner with Jared tonight. It had been a tough week on both of them. With the argument, then Jensen in Townsend... After everything that had been said, they really needed some time together, to regroup. He shook his head, he’d have to deal with the Alpha in the morning. “Damn. Well, can you tell him I’ll call him in the morning?”

“No problem. He’ll be sorry to have missed you.”

Jensen nodded and took a sip of his coffee. He glanced at Dylan, who had gone silent, perched in sock feet on a stool at the big kitchen island, picking desultorily at the sandwich on his plate. Just from the tense line of his shoulders, Jensen could tell the kid was strung as tight as a bow.

The least Jensen could do while he was here was maybe diffuse this situation a little, help Kim out a bit. After all the kid was here because of him. Taking a breath, he waded in. “What’s the big occasion anyway? A white shirt is pretty fancy. Where're you going to, all duded up?”

“Kim wants to take me in to the local high school next week and get me tested, to see where I fit in. Then she wants me to go see the doctor.”

“Sounds like a great plan. It would be good to get you settled in, meet some kids your own age.”

“But I don’t want to meet anyone, and I don’t want to wear this stupid shirt, and you can’t make me!” Dylan threw the half sandwich he’d been holding onto his plate and tore out of the kitchen. The front door slammed as he ran outside.

Kim shook her head at Jensen. “Maybe I’m pushing him too hard, with what he’s been through? I have no idea what’s going through that boy’s head. I just wanted him to feel like he was part of the community, like we want him here. But it’s obviously way too soon.”

Jensen took a hasty slurp of the coffee before reluctantly setting the cup down. “I’ll go find him, talk to him. You okay? He’s going to be a tough nut to crack from the looks of things, but underneath it all I think he’s a good kid.”

“We think he is too. But yeah… Maybe he'll open up a little to you.”

 

It didn’t take much to follow the kid's scent. Jensen found him sitting on top of a cord of wood Jeff had stacked behind the barn to dry. His feet, in their soggy socks, dangled down against the logs, kicking back angrily against the wood. He didn’t react or turn when Jensen first approached, but Jensen knew he was completely aware of his presence. It was only when he came within a few feet of him that Dylan visibly started to tense. Not wanting to push the boy into making a break for it, maybe running off into the woods, shifting and getting lost, Jensen leaned against the wood pile himself. Glancing down at the ground, he casually kicked at the snow covered wood chips littering the ground.

“So, nice people, huh?” Not a sparkling conversational opener, but there it was.

“Yeah, I guess.” Dylan chewed at his lip and continued to look away. Fear and uncertainty emanated from him, an almost visible aura.

“And out here at the settlement, we’re all weres, like you.” Jensen's gut twisted when he said that. It was the first time he’d casually offered that information to anyone who didn’t already know his backstory. He expected the words to stick in his mouth, awkward and false, but they rolled out naturally. Wolf rubbed up against him in approval.

Dylan greeted his statement with total silence. Jensen picked up a small scrap of wood and started picking at the bark, stripping it off as he spoke. “Yeah, I think given some time you could really fit in here, Dylan. Make a home. A good home. Learn what it is to be a were in a safe environment, so you don’t have to keep running.”

The boy's fear spiked suddenly, the scent of it almost palpable. It was obvious Jensen's words had triggered something. He kept his voice soft, watching as Dylan hunched down and wrapped his arms protectively around his chest. Although it was cold outside, he knew it wasn’t the slight chill in the air that was bothering the boy.

“What’s this really about, kiddo? 'Cause it's not about keeping white shirts clean. What’s really got you worried?”

At first he didn’t think Dylan was going to answer him. The boy continued to stare sightlessly into the woods. And when he first started to speak, his voice was pitched so low that, without his enhanced were's hearing, Jensen wasn’t sure he would have been able to hear him.

“You ever wake up with a mouth full of teeth, leaning over the best friend you ever had in the world, and all you can hear is the sound of his heartbeat pounding in your ears? You can physically _hear_ the blood as it pumps through his veins, and all you can think about is how delicious he smells?” Dylan scrubbed an errant tear from his cheek. “My best friend, the guy who saved my life, made sure I had food that first year alone—and all I can think about is how I’m ready to eat him?”

Jensen licked his lips, and wished desperately that Jared was here with him. His mate would know how to handle this, how to proceed. Jensen hadn't spent his own youth as a were, and he couldn’t help wondering if he was the best person to be having this conversation with the boy. As he stood, uncertain, thinking about everything he’d been through so far, he suddenly caught onto an idea. It was such a sideways idea, he wasn’t quite sure about it, but then his wolf nudged him on in approval. Taking a leap of faith, and trusting both his wolf and his gut, he rushed to explain. “Dylan, you didn’t want to eat your friend. That was the were inside you hungry to mate.”

“What the fuck! Are you crazy?” Dylan jumped down from the woodpile and started to lope towards the trees.

Jensen snagged his arm just in time to stop him from taking off. The boy turned, snarling, “Let me the hell go.”

“Wait!” Jensen was desperate enough to put a little Alpha in his voice and the boy’s body swayed in his hold, just for a minute, before he began to stiffen with renewed rage. Jensen plunged ahead, “Go where, Dylan? And do what? You need to listen. There are people here who can help you, help you understand, way better than me, what you are. What you missed out learning as a child. You’re not the monster you think you are. You’re a guy with mixed up hormones whose wolf got a little wound up and mistook friendship for love, and bossed you around.”

A sneer appeared on Dylan’s face, but the boy stopped trying to escape. “What would you know?”

Jensen exhaled in relief. He had the kid's attention, now he had to keep this focused on Dylan’s story, and not his own. With sudden understanding, he said, “That’s why you don’t want to go to town, meet new kids your own age. You’re afraid you’ll hurt someone, afraid your wolf will take over again, and that’s got you running scared.”

Jensen grabbed Dylan by both arms, and gently turned the boy to face him. “Your wolf only steps in when you flounder, when it thinks you can’t handle things on your own. All you need is some faith in yourself, that you know what you’re doing, and your wolf will stay in his place. You don’t have to be afraid of what’s inside you. He IS you. You just have to make friends with him, get to know him.”

“Yeah right.” Dylan jerked weakly against Jensen’s hold. “And how am I supposed to do that? I can’t even control when I shift. The wolf just takes over. At the diner, and then again at the Rover, I know I wasn’t supposed to shift, but my wolf just…”

“Exactly.” Jensen nodded, “He’s trying to protect you, doing what you’re unable to do right now. Did you really want to attack the deputy in Townsend?”

Dylan’s confused gaze dropped to the ground. “No! Not really, I just …”

“And you could have hurt her, or killed her, but you didn’t. You didn’t hurt your friend either. What’s his name?”

Jensen squeezed on Dylan’s arms and the boy’s head flopped back weakly, looking lost and unfocused, he swallowed repeatedly before finally croaking out, “Mitch, his name was Mitch.”

“See, you didn’t hurt him when you could have, and you’re already learning better control, all on your own, with nobody to show you. It just goes to show how strong you're gonna be when you've had a little guidance, and some time to practice." There was a slight relaxation in the kid's body, and Jensen pushed his advantage." So, maybe we put the white shirt away for now, and you homeschool for a while. Give you a chance to get to know your wolf, get to know who you really are, while you give the people here a chance. A lot of them have been where you are, and they know what you’re going through. All you have to do is give them, and yourself, some time.”

Dylan started to shiver in reaction, tears tracking down his face. Jensen pulled the boy into the shelter of his arms, wrapping them protectively around him. Touch deprived, the boy sank gratefully into the embrace, trembling with emotion. Jensen simply held on, surrounding him with the comforting scent of pack and the reassuring feel of skin on skin. God knew how long it had been since someone had held the boy just because they cared.

“Nobody's going to force you to do anything you’re not ready for, Dylan. No one will rush you, okay?” Jensen rubbed his chin across the top of the boy’s head, “You’ll be all right. Just give it some time.”

“How do you know?” The sound of Dylan’s voice, so lost and vulnerable, made Jensen’s heart ache.

“Because I was just like you.”

 

Comments always appreciated ^^


	7. The Forge — Coming Home

 

 

 

By the time Jensen got Dylan settled down, and the boy had agreed to come back in the house, Morgan had called Kim and asked specifically that Jensen wait for him; he was due back in only another half an hour. Trapped, Jensen settled in at Kim’s kitchen table, texting Jared that the Alpha wanted to speak to him, and he’d be home as soon as he could. Kim refilled his cup and squeezed Jensen’s shoulder in thanks, “Are we messing up your plan?”

Jensen shrugged and tried to smile. “We had a date night planned.”

“Well I’m sure Jeff won’t keep you long. If he does, I’ll call him into the house.” Kim whispered in his ear conspiratorially.

Morgan arrived, half an hour late, he kissed Kim and snagged himself a cup of coffee from the fresh pot she’d just put on for Jensen. “Damn generator, it’s just getting too old. Turbines are wearing out, we’ll have to replace the whole powerplant at the falls in another year or so. We’re already starting to have continual brownouts in the area. I don’t know where the town’s gonna get the money, though. We’re talking millions. The Iron Ridge Woolen Company might even have to move out of town if we can’t process our wool here, or the hydro costs go up too much.” Morgan rubbed his head wearily and looked at Jensen. “Sorry, to dump all my worries on you son, and to keep you so long, but I wanted to talk to you in person. Want to come help me out in the barn while we talk?” he asked, taking a long swig of his coffee before reluctantly putting it down. “May as well be doing something productive.”

Jeff’s pickup was full of toolboxes, hunks of machinery, bundles of pipe and extra plates of steel, along with his welding gear. Trying not to groan and glance at his watch, Jensen grabbed the first thing Jeff pointed to out of the back of his pickup.

“I didn’t know you did more than work on cars,” Jensen said as he shoved one of Jeff’s bright red toolboxes onto the shelf where Jeff pointed.

“I wanted to be an engineer. Was at university for three years, but then Goodall’s health started to fail and I felt I was of better use back here than on some preppy campus. I took auto repair at the local community college in Townsend instead, and continued to study in my spare time.”

Jeff and Jensen continued pulling items off the truck, the intimidatingly large pile starting to diminish. “I could probably get my degree by correspondence, but what’s the point? I’m not going anywhere, and everyone who needs to know is aware of what I can do. This whole mess with Pellegrino could probably have been averted if I hadn’t gone on an Iron Ridge new business junket. I knew Goodall was sick, but not how bad off he was, or I wouldn’t have left town.” He nodded toward a hunk of machinery. “Wanna grab that end?”

Jensen took a good hold on the carry bar of the big compressor and, grunting with the effort, helped Morgan lift it off the truck. “Do you think he knew?”

“No, he didn't, or he wouldn’t have sent me. As it was, when I returned, Pellegrino had been made Alpha in my absence. I knew that wasn’t what Goodall wanted, but I was grieving and didn’t want to put the pack through a challenge. In hindsight, I should have done that right away.” Jeff gestured toward the portable generator. "This is the last of it, the rest can stay on the truck,” and they both pulled on the big unit.

They got it settled on the ground, and Jensen got his breath back. “But you didn’t know. From what Jared has said, Pellegrino didn’t seem quite as insane at first as he turned out to be.”

“Still, it’s on me, what he did to the pack. I’ll have to carry that.”

Wiping his arm across his forehead, Morgan took a seat on the tailgate and beckoned for Jensen to join him with a tilt of his head. “So, what do you make of what happened today with Dylan?”

“The kid’s hurting,” Jensen answered, after a moment's thought. “He’s been on his own for so long, and completely unaware he was a were, or how to handle any of it. He just told me that the first time he shifted, he almost hurt his best friend Mitch. It totally freaked him out, and he went running for the hills, literally. He’s got issues shifting, it’s not really under his control at the moment, and I think his wolf pulled some of the same stunts mine did, taking over when he couldn’t. It’s all left Dylan with a deep distrust in himself and his wolf. I think he needs to get to know his were, be taken out in the wild with someone he can trust, and shift. I know it’s the only way I seemed to make peace with mine.”

Jeff pulled thoughtfully on his beard, “You volunteering? You and the boy seem to have developed quite a bond.”

Jensen slapped some of the dirt and dust off his jeans. “Shit no. I wouldn’t sic me on anyone.” He slanted a look at Morgan. “Besides, I’ve got enough on my plate as it is, what with having to go to the Bureau next week.” Morgan continued to watch him and Jensen sighed a little, and shrugged. “Maybe when I get back. But I’m almost as mixed up as the kid.”

“Maybe that’s the point. He doesn’t need me telling him how to think, or act like a were. He needs someone who’s been there.”

Jensen shrugged, “I just don’t know. Ask me when I get back?”

Morgan pursed his lips thoughtfully, “Speaking of, I know you’re heading out to the Bureau next week, but I wanted to have dinner with you, Jared, and Jim before you leave. Could we meet at your place later this week, maybe Friday night? There's something I want to discuss with you all and I’d like to do it somewhere private.”

“Sure.” Jensen cocked his head in surprise, “Anything I should know beforehand?”

"No, just some ideas I want to run by you…” Morgan trailed off vaguely.

“Okay, I’ll let Jared know, then.” Jensen said, hopping off the back of the tailgate and dusting off his pants, “Listen, I'm sorry, but I really have to get going. I have to get my ass home before my mate disowns me.”

“Oh I hear you on that one.” Jumping down himself, Morgan looped his hand over Jensen’s shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze as they walked back toward the house. The closeness felt good, and all Jensen wanted to do was lean closer into his alpha’s grasp.Jensen had had the benefit of that comforting touch and closeness since his own turning. It was all he could do, now, to climb into his Rover and drive away, his shoulder tingling, the sensation of home and pack thrumming through him. He thought about Dylan going without that for all these years, and it made him unaccountably sad.

He quick dialed Jared, putting him on speaker.

“Hey.” Jared’s voice sounded out of breath.

“Hey.” Jensen smiled, he could imagine Jared tucking his hair behind his ear as he talked on the phone.

“You sound like you’re rushing.”

“Just trying to make it to the phone. I was outside feeding the horses.”

Jensen snorted. “Bet you all loved that.”

“Well let’s just say we came to an agreement. They were hungry and I had food. So we all put aside our differences, for the moment.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Sugar cubes help too. That was my secret weapon.”

“So, how’s it going? You going to make it home tonight?”

“On my way.”

“Long day?”

Jensen chuckled, “Yeah, Its been a lo-ong day. I’ll tell you about it when I get there. I’m only about a half an hour away.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Yeah…and Jared…I just want you to know, cause I don’t think I tell you enough, I love you.”

“I love you too, Jen. Come home.”

The soft command in Jared’s words caused a hot twist in the pit of Jensen’s gut. Thinking about his lover at home, waiting for him, his cock twitched in his jeans, and he savored the knife edge of arousal Jared had awakened the whole rest of the ride home.

When Jensen finally pulled into the drive, it was well past nine and full on dark. He stepped down from the Rover, readjusting his jeans. His mind hadn’t been far from thoughts about his mate since he'd hung up.

The moon was obscured by cloud cover tonight, and a thin dusting of snow, but Jensen could tell by the pull in his bones that it was waxing ever closer to full, only a few days off. He’d be in Dallas by then, sharing the full moon with a thousand diehard hunters. Fucking awesome.

Shaking his head, he grabbed up his gear and packages, and headed into the house.

“I’m home.” He couldn’t hide the hunger in his voice as he entered the little foyer at the front door. He tossed his Stetson on the old coat rack in the hall and followed his nose past the dining room, where Jared had a cozy setting for two already laid out on the table, on into the kitchen, from where the savory scents of Jared and roast beef and garlic were wafting, but his mate wasn’t there. His nose wrinkling in disappointment, Jensen pulled out the two bottles of red he’d bought earlier that day when he’d picked up McNally’s single malt, and searched the drawers for the wine bottle opener. As he popped the top of the first bottle, a gentle merlot, he could hear the shower start upstairs, and a sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

Growling softly, he left the wine to breathe, and went to hunt down his mate.

In the master bedroom, Jared had laid out a freshly ironed button up shirt and his best dress pants on the bed. Jensen’s fingertips trailed along the crisp cotton. He could pick out Jared’s sweet scent clinging to the material from when his mate ironed it. Steam billowed from the bathroom and Jensen’s smile widened. He tugged at his clothes, fingers trembling as he half ripped, half unbuttoned his shirt.

Discarded clothing soon marked his path as he followed his mate into the bathroom. The glass shower walls were fogged, Jared’s tall, lanky outline barely visible as he hummed the latest pop song, vaguely off key. Jensen stood, his hunger sharpening as he breathed in Jared’s spicy scent. Wrapping a hand around his half hard cock, he impatiently gave it a few rough tugs before stepping forward and eagerly easing open the shower door. The sounds of his movements were hidden by the cascading water, so Jared was unaware of his presence, and Jensen was free to feast his eyes on his lover.

Jared’s eyes were closed, as he rolled his head gently back and forth under the brisk spray,his large hands running carefully through his slick sable locks, rinsing the last of the soap away. Water ran rivulets down his long neck, pooling briefly at his collarbone before continuing the relentless rush down his mate’s beautiful body. Some few droplets pearled on the tips of his nipples, clinging there jealously while more streamed down the hard planes of his muscled chest, slipping over the narrow girdle of his hips to follow the sparkling wet path of his treasure trail to his groin.

And red and swollen, straining unashamedly upward through the downpour was Jared’s cock. Finishing his rinse, Jared fisted it, jacking himself a few times with one of those big paws before he groaned and leaned in, bracing his forearm against the shower wall, and spreading his legs a little. Eyes still closed, wearing a blissed out expression, Jared buried his face in his arm while he continued to jack himself, his breathing growing more rapid and shallow.

Jared's hand swiped over the head of his jutting cock and he shuddered delicately, white teeth biting at his pink, swollen lips. His hips started to pump, pushing his blood heavy cock through his curled fingers. His chest rose and fell with his uneven breaths, and he tossed his head, whining, before lowering it back down into the cradle of his arm.

Jensen groaned under his breath, his balls tight, stroking his own now painfully hard cock. Wolf brushed impatiently against his skin, eager to claim what was theirs.

Unable to watch any longer, Jensen stepped into the shower. His mate startled, and started to turn, but Jensen murmured, “Easy…” in his ear, alpha strength pinning Jared in place against the wall. His mate stiffened in his hold, then Jared exhaled raggedly, his body softening, submitting to Jensen’s touch. With a gentle squeeze of approval Jensen nuzzled into the hollow of Jared’s neck, brushing his stubbled jaw against Jared’s clean shaven one and whispered, “Stay.”

Hungry to touch, Jensen ran his hands over Jared’s skin, slippery with falling water, and slotted himself in behind his mate’s big body. His rigid cock rubbed along the wet crease of Jared’s ass and down along the tender skin of his taint, to nudge against the back of his balls. Jared shuddered, now even wetter as his body responded to Jensen’s presence with his own slick. The bond hummed with arousal as Jensen’s fingers, eel slick, slid over Jared’s warm flesh, tweaking the flat copper discs of his nipples, plucking and toying with them until Jared squirmed back against Jensen’s cock. He placed his hand gently over Jared’s slowing his mate to a teasingly slow pace as he continued to strip himself. All the while, Jensen continued to toy with his mate’s body until Jared started to push back against him in earnest, whimpering pitifully.

Wolf growled. It was time to move in, to strike.

Releasing his mate’s cock, Jensen gave his own dick a few sharp tugs before, he lined up and nudged, teasing, against Jared’s hole. Then he was pushing in. Jared keened, and arched his back, and suddenly Jensen was inside him, Jared so tight around him he could hardly breathe. But Jensen pushed in deeper, advancing inch by slick inch until he was lodged deep inside his mate. Jensen paused for breath, his chest pressed firmly against Jared’s back, savoring the sensation of their bodies sealed so tightly together. Jared let out a ragged breath and in a voice that was half whisper, half whine, said, “You gonna just wash your hair back there, or fuck me?” Chuckling, Jensen nipped at his saucy omega’s neck. Then, wrapping his hands around Jared’s chest for balance, he started to move, slowly at first, rolling his hips as Jared groaned and pushed back to meet him, then faster, his hips snapping as Jensen fucked deep into Jared’s body.

Jensen’s wolf whined, there were no wet slip, slap, no slick sucking sounds, only harsh breathing and guttural groans swallowed by the endless smooth stream of water. Mouths open with want, they were sealed together in a liquid cocoon that drowned out all scent and sound.

He could see Jared’s big hand stripping furiously over his own cock. Jensen and Wolf both wanted to bat that hand away so he could stroke that velvety hardness himself. Instead, his hands pressed tighter around his mate as water rushed over both of them, gloriously warm and slippery. Jensen’s knot began to swell, and Wolf howled, wanting nothing better than to bury himself deep inside his mate. Unwilling to end their evening's fun so quickly, Jensen squeezed his hand around his knot, and pulled back, only sinking in deep enough to drag along the sensitive spot inside his mate’s body, rutting against it again and again to bring his mate off.

A few more strokes was all it took, until Jared was crying out, big body arching like a great bow at the moment the arrow flies as he painted the shower wall with his come, his tight inner walls squeezing relentlessly around Jensen. Cock twitching, balls drawing up, Jensen growled and bit down on the meat of Jared’s shoulder, his teeth sinking into his mate in a way he wouldn’t allow his knot to do.

His mouth bloody, pleasure zinging through their shared bond, Jensen finally released Jared, and yanked his still hard cock out. Throwing back his head, he howled, coming almost immediately over Jared’s back in a triumphant roar.

Wolf whined as the water swept their claim on Jared’s skin away in a swirling funnel of pink. Jensen only smiled, laving over the bite as Jared hung, nearly unconscious in his arms.

After rubbing his mate down and drying him off, they had both been too fucked out to bother getting dressed again. Pulling on his own black cotton bathrobe, Jensen dressed an unresisting Jared in his silk kimono. Settling his mate in a mound of pillows and blankets in front of the living room fireplace, Jensen went to the kitchen to put together a platter from the food Jared had prepared.

Their dinner was a somewhat sybaritic affair, with Jared nestled in the crook of Jensen’s arms, half sprawled against his chest as Jensen fed him succulent morsels from their shared plate. The flames cast a pretty glow back on them, turning Jared’s normally coppery skin the color of liquid bronze.

“I’m not some wanton harem boy. You know that, right?” Jared smiled, sloe-eyed, licking wantonly at Jensen’s fingertips as he fed him the last of the roast beef.

“Mmmm.” Jensen bent in closer to lick a dab of gravy off Jared’s bottom lip. “Of course you’re not. Most harem boys never even tasted coffee, let alone knew how to make it. You’re more like my Roman slave boy, helpless to resist my charm.”

“Humpf, some charm. Three hours late for supper is more like it. I could have starved to death.”

“But our love sustained you.” Jensen smirked, offering him another morsel of shredded meat.

“Actually, it was the stolen mouthfuls that did it. Cook never starves, you know.” Jared smiled smugly. “So how did it go at Jeff’s with the boy? We didn’t have time to talk much. How’s he settling in?”

“I didn’t think it would be so hard…and then to hear the kid's story. It was tragic. He grew up never even knowing he was a were. Kid was so touch deprived by the time I got to him, it’s a wonder he hadn’t done more harm than jack a few groceries. He’s a walking raw nerve ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. I only hope he stays long enough to understand what he could have here.”

“So you’re not worried about him fitting in?”

“Not in the long run, no, but he had a freak out tonight while I was at the settlement. That’s what took me so long tonight, settling him back down. Then the Alpha wanted to talk to me.”

“You like the kid, though. I can hear it in your voice.” Jared pulled Jensen’s arms tighter around him. “Whatever the rest of the pack says, you’ve already taken him into yours.”

Jensen rested his chin on the top of Jared’s head. “How can you know me so well?”

“You hunters are always easy to read.” Jared said haughtily.

And Jensen growled, and rolled out from under his mate, shifting them, so he was crouched on all fours above Jared, pinning his arms to the rug on the floor. “And what other hunters would you know?”

Jared tipped his nose up, looking away, “Oh you know the usual kind.”

Jared howled when Jensen pounced, tickling his mate ruthlessly until Jared squealed to be let go. “Wait, wait!” Jared’s laughter filled the rooms. “I was using a test bed of one.”

“Better be only one in your bed.” Jensen rumbled, nipping possessively at his mate’s neck. Jared’s cheeks were pink from laughter and Jensen swooped in for a kiss, arousal heating his own body. His cock started to swell, and Jensen rubbed himself against Jared’s thigh invitingly, scent marking his mate as he waited for him to respond.

Pupils blown dark with desire, Jared watched him, the answering flame of desire that sizzled across the bond as he rolled his hips up against Jensen’s was all Jensen needed. His mate’s pink tongue poked out to wet his own lips, throat working to swallow back something desperate and yearning. Leaning in, Jensen licked into Jared’s mouth, and his tongue explored teeth and the roof of his mouth, twining around Jared’s broad tongue, submerging himself in the taste of mate as he wrapped his fingers in the silky length of Jared’s hair.

When he finally raised his head, Jensen’s cock was pushing against Jared’s own silken hardness, his body buzzing with arousal. Jared swiveled his hips and bucked up weakly against Jensen, his hands rubbing over Jensen’s back in an attempt to pull him closer.

His cheeks pink with desire, Jared laughingly offered, “And to think, I had cheesecake in the fridge for dessert.”

Jensen smiled, his eyes sliding closed to mere slits as he observed his mate. “I saw that, but I think perhaps we both want something different for dessert. How’s about you come upstairs and I’ll show you?”

Sitting back on his knees before rising, Jensen offered Jared his hand, and helped tug his mate to his feet. The feeling of Jared’s long muscular body against his own nearly undid him. It took all his strength of will to not throw his mate to the floor and knot him right there. Instead, he grabbed Jared’s hand, and they rushed up the stairs.

By the time they fell in a naked fumbling heap onto the bed, Jensen’s knot was starting to swell. Jared eyed him critically before rasping out, “Fuck, Jen, you gotta knot me, quick.” He used his elbows to push himself farther up on the bed, bending his legs to tuck his feet in against his butt to make room for Jensen.

“Just do it, Jen. I’ll be okay,” Jared said, his scent sharp with arousal. Reaching down he pulled his ass cheeks apart, exposing his glistening pink hole, and the sweet spicy scent of his slick filled the air. Cock straining, Wolf wanted to surge inside, but Jensen remained firmly in control. Cautious of hurting his mate, he knelt down between Jared’s legs and rubbed his thumb over Jared’s wet glistening hole, it popped inside with ease, and Jared’s passage pulsed around it with another load of slick.

Fixated on the glistening, puckered hole, Jensen lined himself up, buried himself easily inside Jared’s slick passage, sanity returning only when the knot pushed against his rim.

Jared tugged his lips between his teeth, throwing back his head and moaned, “Nngh, so fucking good. Keep going.”

Huffing out a breath, Jensen bore down, a triumphant snarl escaping his bared teeth as he pushed past his mate’s rim and sank deep inside. Dizzy with pleasure, he let instinct take over, thrusting lazily, enjoying the sensation of Jared’s channel clutched tight around him. As his pleasure spiraled, he pulled out, hammered back in, again and again, faster and faster, his knot beginning to catch on each thrust. Jensen’s mouth began running as fast as his cock, “Gonna fuck you so hard, so deep, the only testing you’ll be doing is of the water to soak that sore ass of yours in. Gonna sink in so deep you’re gonna feel me in your throat. Like that, baby, that the way you want it? So addicted to my knot, you’ll be my good little slave boy.”

“Nngh, not gonna peel any God-damned grapes for you.”

Jensen grabbed onto Jared’s bent knees to anchor him and swiveled his hips, nailing Jared’s prostate perfectly with his knot. Jared bared his teeth, hand grappled onto Jensen’s forearms, squeezing tight as his mate cried out, eyelids fluttering wide, groaning, “Okay, maybe a grape or two.”

All too soon, Jensen’s knot had completely swollen and he was lodged deep inside his mate. Now, he could only rock back and forth and watch Jared’s multicolor eyes light up as he pressed against his prostate, over and over. Jensen reached between them and took Jared’s cock in hand, squeezing and tugging on it in counterpoint to his thrusts. Jared groaned and then literally howled, his big hands flailing, grabbing at Jensen’s arms as he came, ropy strings of come covering his belly and Jensen’s chest and hand.

So engrossed with watching his mate take his pleasure, Jensen was somewhat taken by surprise when his own orgasm hit. With a sharp shout, he came deep inside Jared’s passage.

Still tied together, Jensen gathered his blissed out mate back into his arms and rolled them both to their sides. His knot continued to twitch and pulse deep inside Jared, it would be an hour or so before the swelling would go down enough for them to separate. In the meantime, Jensen enjoyed the sweet boneless weight, the sated scent, and the breathing, easing into a soft little buzz, of the sleepy omega in his arms.

Jared roused himself enough to pat Jensen's arm and mumble sleepily, “Some kind of dessert.”

Jensen chuckled and pulled Jared in tighter to his chest. “The best.”

He lurched up in bed gasping, his heart pounding nearly out of his chest. He glanced quickly over at Jared, but his mate only snuffled adorably in his sleep, wriggling deeper into the covers seeking Jensen's heat. Jensen tried to hang on to the vestiges of the dream that had woken him, but the images scattered like smoke in the waking world.

He exhaled raggedly, shivering. His entire body covered in a cold sweat, which seemed an almost impossible feat sleeping next to the human space heater that was his mate. Knowing sleep would elude him, Jensen carefully pushed the blankets closer around Jared so that his mate wouldn’t notice his absence. He slid his legs carefully out from under the sheets and sat there a moment, willing his heart rate to slow while he rubbed his frigid limbs, before snatching up his bathrobe and quietly padding downstairs.

He thought about making coffee but rejected the idea, his nerves too on edge for further stimulation. He ended up roaming restlessly through the darkened first floor, trying to decide what to do with himself, before stopping to stand before the front windows. The moon was even fuller tonight. It cast a blue glow on the sparkling carpet of snow that covered almost everything on the farm. Wolf brushed up against him and Jensen sensed the same boxed in, restless energy in his counterpart that he was experiencing.

“To hell with this,” Jensen grumbled, sure that any real sleep was beyond him at this point. Already nearly naked, he simply shed his bathrobe and stepped outside onto the front porch. The night air was crisp and cool, and though he was growing colder by the second, the wash of the moonlight on his skin was electric. The air itself hummed with energy. Jensen’s ears perked at the sound of an owl’s hoot. Wolf pressed at his sides, eager to run.

“Yeah, I hear you, but how do we do this again?” he muttered as much to himself as wolf. He had never gone on a run by himself, he had always had Jeff or Jared with him. But a little alone time sounded like just the thing right now. “Okay shift…” he whispered and closed his eyes, willing his wolf to answer the call.

And as simple as that, he did.

 

Jensen’s feet padded along the snowy ground, the crust thick enough to support his lean weight. He’d gone miles before he even stopped to consider how he might find his way back, but when he did, his wolf GPS knew exactly where he was. When he gazed down at himself placing one foot in front of the other, his thick white fur looked blue, the scattering of small gold flecks running over his paws appeared black in the moonlight. More miles sailed by as Jensen explored his inner wolf, chasing the odd rabbit and following an old moose trail until it petered out. He was again reminded of what a magnificent creature his wolf was, aware of every sound, every scent that tickled his nose, at once preying on, and at peace with, everything in the woods.

Pushing himself harder he picked up the pace, his body vibrated with energy and before he knew it, he found himself on the outcropping Jeff had taken him to the first night of his turning. He stepped out onto the snowy plateau half expecting Jeff to greet him, but he was the only one there.

The wind ruffled his fur as he stopped near the edge of the plateau and looked down at the sleeping town below. He thought about how much Dylan would enjoy this, coming out here with Jeff or himself and seeing the town, feeling the moon’s soft glow on his fur, the sound of Jeff and Jensen and Jared’s howls intertwined and the soft rub of his pack mate’s fur on his flank as they raced headlong through the woods together.

And suddenly he was lonely. It wasn’t a new feeling, he had been lonely for a long time now, maybe most of his life. That, like Dylan, after his pack had been taken away, he had never found one to replace it, until now. And while duty and dedication might be an important part of your life, they weren’t all of your life, that it wasn’t enough to sustain you until now…until Jared. He wasn’t alone.

With sudden clarity he knew he regretted nothing. Being able to live in this skin, if only for a time, to become this beautiful creature and share his thoughts, to share his pack? Stunned by the simplicity of it all, Jensen sat back on his haunches. Looking up at the shining disc looming overhead, joy and awe seemed to fill all the empty places in his heart. Breathing in the icy air, the moonlight whispering over his skin, Jensen started to howl.

The hairs on the back of Jensen’s neck prickled, the sensation of being watched had him peering out carefully through mostly closed eyes. Across the bed from him, he could see Jared lying on his side watching him, his expression almost sorrowful.

Jensen’s heart clenched, did Jared know about the dream, his run last night? A quick flick of his gaze showed him Jared’s expression seemed more thoughtful than concerned. Knowing he couldn’t pretend to sleep for long, Jensen let out a breath and stretched dramatically, feeling more rested than the two hours' sleep he’d been able to catch deserved, more rested than he had in ages.

Sunlight was beginning to stream in the window of their bedroom, and Jensen had to squint to focus on Jared. As he thought about the previous night's activities a broad smile spread across his face. His smile faltered as he realized guiltily that his mate might be sore.

He laid his hand over his mate’s chest, could feel the comforting lub, lub of his mate’s heart under his palm. “You alright? I didn’t...”

Jared smiled and lifted Jensen’s palm to his lips, kissing the tender skin at his pulse point. Jensen shivered, sparks tingling down his arm.

“I’m fine. We just didn’t have much time to talk after you kidnapped me.”

“The sad fate of slave boys everywhere. But," he paused, ambushed by a jaw-cracking yawn. “I think we hit the high points. I didn’t kill anyone, and there’s a possibility Dylan might be settling in here okay.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You went on a hunt, how did it feel? How do you feel? Any more dreams?”

Jensen opened his mouth, ready to give a quick, easy answer, and then shut it carefully, pulling Jared in for a tender kiss. When he released him, he ran the knuckles of his hand tenderly along the planes of Jared’s cheekbone. “You’re worried about me. I get it, I do. And if you’re wondering if things are going to be okay between us. I think they are.” Jensen sat up, and ran his fingers tenderly though Jared’s hair, as he knelt in close. Jensen’s fingers curled around each side of his face his thumbs absently scratching through Jared’s morning scruff. “All I—we--need is time, Jay. Time to take it all in you know? I was sort of naïve going into this, both the tribunal and then taking on the hunt. I thought it would be a cakewalk, but all my wolf’s feelings, everything I know now, being part of a pack. It all makes it so much more complicated.”

“I know Jen. I know it hasn’t been easy for you. But I’m here for you, we can talk anytime. And if you just need some me-time, don’t feel like you have to _sneak_ out for a run on your own. Just do it, that’s okay too.” Jared’s earnest fox eyes stripped Jensen bare with a glance, before he turned his head to kiss his palm.

Jensen’s morning wood twitched. He groaned muttering, “Oh Jay,” and lowered his head for a long, slow lingering kiss, their tongues flicking and gliding in an age old dance. Suddenly all Jensen wanted to do was bury himself inside his mate and feel him coming apart around him. With a growl, Jensen began to lick and bite at Jared’s lips, sucking wet bruises into the hollow of his throat. His wolf howling with pride as Jensen’s marks blossomed on his mate’s skin. “Wanna fuck you so bad.” Jensen whispered, hands clutched tightly around Jared’s head, the smell of arousal thick in the air.

Jared pulled forcibly out of his hold, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he breathed, “Yeah, God — yeah.” And without blinking, he spit in his hand and rolled them, so that Jensen was under him, straddling him, and Jared’s large hand was pressing their cocks together in a velvet glide of precome and saliva. Jared leaned in, sealing his mouth over Jensen’s, jacking them both slowly as their kisses become more frantic. When they came up gasping for air, Jared’s expression was determined. Repositioning Jensen’s cock, Jared moved, shifted, and then in one wet slick slide, Jensen was inside him.

Jensen gasped and looked up, and Jared was moving over him, riding him, his hands shifting to clutch white-knuckle tight at the covers on either side of Jensen's head.

“Jesus,” Jensen whispered, staring up in awe of his mate, his hands grappling around Jared's shoulders to anchor himself. Jared's slick channel was hugging him like a vise as he fucked himself back on Jensen’s cock. And Jensen might have seen stars before he pulled Jared’s head down for a sweaty, desperate kiss, and snapped his hips up to meet him as his knot quickly swelled.

"You fuck all your slave boys like this?" Jared asked, chest heaving for breath, his body tightening around Jensen’s. Jensen’s knot began to catch and the rough slip slide of it on Jared’s rim as he thrust in and out had them both moaning in pleasure.

“No, you, only you.” Jensen ground out as he buried his knot one last time inside Jared’s channel.

Jared screamed when he finally came, and Jensen could feel it through the bond, his mate’s whole body alight with arousal, white pearly ropes of come spurting all over them both. Jared’s channel fluttered around him, and with a gasp Jensen was coming as well, pulsing deep inside Jared’s warm body.

Settling into more comfortable positions, they both dozed for a while, Jensen reduced to tiny little thrusts as he rocked gently inside his mate, his swollen knot pulsing deep inside him. Wrapping his arms around his mate, he rubbed himself against him. Only later when his wolf rumbled happily that his mate finally smelt right did he realize it was an unconscious effort to mark every inch of his omega’s skin.

When his knot finally deflated enough for Jensen to carefully pull out of Jared’s body, he rolled over alongside him. They lay side by side, both unwilling to move and break the spell, the only thing touching now was their entwined fingers.

“Wow. If that’s what it’s like being your slave boy, consider me sold.” Jared murmured, his fingers petting Jensen’s arm absently.

“Mine,” Jensen hummed contentedly.

Jared glanced over at the bedside clock and groaned. “God, I am so late for work.” He rolled up onto one elbow and ran his hand along Jensen’s chest, “But it was so worth it. Date night may have started late, but we more than made up for it.”

Jared jumped out of bed and made for the bathroom.

“Anything special going on today I should know about?” He called over his shoulder.

“Oh. As a matter of fact there is.” Jensen sat up groggily rubbing his hair and wishing he had a cup of coffee in his hand right now. “I forgot to tell you, the Alpha asked if he and Jim could come over for dinner before I leave for the Bureau. He asked if Friday would be okay?”

Jared's stuck his head out from the bathroom, his eyebrows raised. “Ah, sure, the Alpha’s always welcome. Did he say what he wanted to see us about?”

“No, just that he wanted it here where we can talk in private. I don’t know. Is this kind of thing common?”

“Well he’s come to dinner at my place before, but he never brought Jim with him.... Odd. Do you think it’s got something to do with the Bureau?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jensen yawned and sat up, his bladder screaming for relief. Groaning, he followed Jared into the bathroom.

“And what about the Bureau? You still leaving on Sunday? If we’re having dinner on Friday should I tell Kane we won’t be coming over on Saturday?” Jared turned the taps on in the shower and pulled out a fluffy towel from the cabinet.

“Hell no, we’re still going. Open mic night needs to be honored. And Oz has already given me enough tricks up his sleeve to smuggle a dozen weres in and out of the bureau. I dropped in yesterday, and he’s got it all figured out. Don’t you worry, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

Jensen grabbed Jared around the waist and rubbed his beard stubble against Jared’s face.

“Ouch, you need to shave,” Jared shoved him away with a laugh, “and I still think I should go with you.”

Jensen shook his head. “Everything’s okay, but that doesn’t mean I want the added stress of worrying about you. You don’t know any of the protocol, and me bringing someone along would only raise eyebrows. Williams is already curious about you, and we do not want to poke that bear. It’s go in, and get out alive, that’s the mission. No heroics, and no extra risks. I pack up my apartment, say goodbye to a few friends, and skedaddle back here. Besides, you have a heat coming up. I don’t want the extra stress of the trip triggering it earlier.”

Jared huffed, “And you don’t think I’ll worry here?”

“I know you will, love. But you’ve got a bakery to run, not hunters to step lightly around. And if you’re here, that’s one extra thing I don’t have to worry about.”

Jared gave him the evil eye. “Okay hunter, you get your way. But I’m warning you, you don’t come back, and I’ll hunt you down myself.”

Jensen laughed and gave Jared a quick kiss on the lips as he climbed into the shower. He needed to hustle too, or he’d be late for his shift. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

Comments always appreciated no matter when you read the story ^^


	8. The Forge — Seeds Sewn

 

 

Friday was upon him before he knew it. Between his shifts, and checking in with Oz Thursday night to go through all his kit once more, and finding time to practice with the various pieces of new equipment he’d be sporting, the week was over before it began. He and Jared had barely been able to talk between themselves about why Jeff wanted them all together.

“I wonder what Jeff has up his sleeve. Must be important to want Jim here as well.” Jared had mused Thursday night as they lay cuddled together under the covers.

“Hmm, yeah, I was wondering about that too. I can’t even guess. I don’t think they’d arrange to have a secret dinner if it was just about Dylan.” Jensen yawned, his jaw cracking.

“No, I think you’re right, it’s something else.” Jared wriggled in closer. “Speaking of something else, there’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about.” Jensen’s eyes stayed firmly closed.

“Hey,” Jared poked his mate in the shoulder, “Did you just fall asleep on me?”

A lazy grin spread across Jensen’s face, his eyelids fluttering open a crack to watch his mate. “I’m awake, I’m awake.”

Jared huffed out a breath, regrouping. “It’s about my heat…”

“Don’t worry love, I’ll be back from the Bureau in time, you don’t have to worry about me making it back in time.” Jensen leaned in and gave his mate a kiss.

“No, that’s not the part I wanted to talk to you about. It’s about birth control.” Jared rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m wondering if I should go on birth control. It wasn’t an issue for my first heat, omegas traditionally never catch their first mating, but the second heat… There’s a slight possibility I could get pregnant.”

Suddenly fully awake, Jensen shoved himself up on an elbow so he could look into Jared’s face. Pregnancy… He swallowed, trying to pick his words carefully before he spoke. “Do you…do you want to get pregnant Jared?”

“Well I’d never thought about it before but with you, us, yeah maybe. Besides it’s only one in fifty odds during the second heat.”

The wisecrack on Jensen’s lips about how sure a shot he was died away as the reality of what Jared was asking set in. Truth was, he hadn’t really thought a lot about the possibility that Jared could get pregnant. He gazed appreciatively at his mate’s long, lean body, and tried to imagine his belly swelling with a life they had made together; instead of the shock he expected to feel, his heart swelled with a warm, happy sensation. More cautiously he searched Jared’s eyes as he replied “What do you want to do?”

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up or for you to feel rushed over this. It’s a long shot, this early in my heats. Omegas usually go several years before getting pregnant, something about the bond settling. If you’re willing to risk it I’d be much happier, I already talked to the pack’s doctor, but I’m a cautious about the birth control available for weres. Some of it is known to cause sterility. And considering neither one of us is getting any younger, if it’s going to take a few years to get me pregnant, maybe we should get started now. I have given it a lot of thought, and I’m totally on board.” Jared turned to kiss him, and the sweet, spicy tang of his pre-heat scent had Jensen hardening in no time. “And you’re sure you’re okay with this? I’m not rushing you?”

“As sure as I can be. This is all new ground for me. I don’t know any better than you about this kind of thing.”

Deepening the kiss, Jensen rolled so he was crouched over Jared in the v of his legs.

“You’re good with this?” he asked, his cock rubbing a damp trail along Jared’s inner thigh.

Jared squirmed and pulled his knees up on either side of Jensen’s body, opening himself up further for his mate. Groaning at the sight of his mate so exposed and open for him, Jensen pushed his cock under Jared’s balls and ran the velvety head along Jared’s already dripping hole.

Dropping his long eyelashes to half-mast, Jensen rocked up against him, his tongue pushed against sharp eyeteeth. Jared closed his eyes. “Totally good,” he said on a moan.

“Then now’s as good a time as any,” Jensen smiled as he pushed inside his mate. It was time to get down to the serious business of making Jared howl in pleasure.

Now, only a day later, he found himself uncharacteristically nervous about the coming evening’s get together.

“So, see you at seven?” Jensen stuck his head in Jim’s office on his way home.

Blinking over his spectacles at Jensen, Jim leaned back in his chair before answering. “Yes, sure, but shouldn’t I be bringing somethin’?”

“Nah, I got wine and beer in the Rover, unless you want something else to drink? Jared’s got dessert taken care of, and Jeff’s already bringing Kim’s famous kale and feta salad. So we’re good.”

“Humph,” Jim took off his glasses and squinted at Jensen, “Now, this isn’t some kind of elaborate ruse you and Jeff have going, to tell me you’ve changed your mind and are staying with the Division or somethin’, is it? I wouldn’t do it, if I were you, what with your _condition_ and all. I’d be as nervous as a cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs, tryin’ to pull that off full time. But, if that’s what this is all about, you can tell me right flat out. You don’t need to pussyfoot around me, son, it’s your life, after all.”

Jensen burst into laughter. “Me, staying at the Division? I don’t think there’s a chance of that happening. Seriously, no. Jeff called this, and I have no idea what he wants to talk about.”

“Well that boss of yours is hoping otherwise…”

Jensen’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “What? Williams? He’s been talking to you?”

“Talking to me? The man’s called me almost every day for the last three months. I can’t get rid of him. Wants to know what we put in the water up here to steal his best man away. I thought you were getting the same drill.”

“No, the sneaky bugger didn’t say a word to me. What did you tell him?”

“I said, I thought it was that young feller of yours that did it, not anything I’d done. He claims he wants to come visit. I tell ya’, the man is persistent.” Jim tapped his glasses nervously on his desktop. “Could prove to be downright dangerous.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Kim’s famous kale and feta salad,” Jeff grinned as Jensen opened the door, presenting the plastic wrapped bowl with a flourish. “Please, whatever you do, next time you see her, tell her you loved it. Lie if you have too, but she’s a nervous wreck these days.”

“Alpha.” Jensen smiled, accepting the salad, sniffing at the bowl with suspicion as he stood back to motion Jeff inside. “Yeah, thanks for this. Jared’s been trying to make me eat healthier since he moved in. I guess he finally gets his wish.”

Jeff pulled a face, “Oh you don’t have to eat it, you just gotta tell Kim it was great.”

Jensen chuckled and, as Jeff shrugged off his coat, cautiously ventured, “So, things are not going so well, huh?”

“Not so much. Normally Kim would be here with me tonight, but neither of us wants to leave Dylan alone these days. The kid’s in rough shape: mood swings, the silent treatment. Kim takes the brunt of it, being home all day with him. She’s on her last nerve. And to think, we always wanted kids. Don’t get me wrong, the kid has goodness in his heart, but he’s all kinds of mixed up right now. It’s gonna take a while…” Jeff shook his head sadly.

Jensen clapped Jeff’s shoulder, and tugged him into the kitchen just as Jared pulled the roast out of the oven. Jim had already arrived, and was at the new island Jensen had built between kitchen and dining room, sipping a cold one.

Jensen placed Jeff’s offering down on the counter and grinned. “Look, Jay, check it out, kale! This should be right up your alley.” Jared glanced over at the salad, his eyes lighting up with pleasure, as Jensen slid an arm around his mate’s waist to sneak a quick kiss.

“Hey, cooking here. Away, shoo!” Jared groused, but not too strongly, his arms trapped, holding the pot roast in front of him. Setting it down on the stove, he snatched up a tea towel; Jensen danced away in time to avoid being swatted. Safely out of reach, he glanced at Jeff, “Glass of wine? Beer? Something harder?”

“First things first,” Jeff winked at him and crowded past Jensen into the kitchen, squeezed Jared’s shoulders in greeting, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jared immediately turned and hugged him.

“Hey, how come he gets all the love?” Jensen cried out in mock exasperation. In truth he was puzzled at Jeff’s ability to touch Jared without setting his wolf off. When any other alpha accidentally touched his mate, the hackles of Jensen’s wolf were instantly on end. He made a mental note to ask Jared about it later.

Jared stuck his tongue out at Jensen before smiling at Jeff. “Welcome to our home, Alpha.”

Stepping back with a wry grin on his face, Jeff rubbed at his jaw, “Hey, just Jeff tonight, okay? And a beer would be great, Jen.” Jensen pulled two longnecks out of the fridge and passed one to Jeff. The alpha popped the top and took a long swallow before turning to their other guest. “Good to see you, Jim. Been a while.”

“Morgan.” Jim tapped his beer bottle against Jeff’s in greeting.

Jared had set the table ahead of time, and wine glasses, cutlery, and plates sparkled under the rustic wooden chandelier Jared had found and rewired. Jeff pulled a chair away from the table to straddle it, and settled on the seat a little wearily. Resting his arms across the top of the chair back, he looked around the space.

“Love what you’ve done to the place,” Morgan said, tugging at his beard as he took in the changes. “I don’t think I’ve been inside since you bought it from the Bakers. You took out the wall between the dining room and the kitchen,” Jeff nodded appreciatively. “Nice. Really opens it up. Shit, maybe it’s a good thing Kim couldn’t make it tonight. If she’d seen all this, she’d go all home renovation mode on me.” He chuckled, the long-necked bottle dangling from between his fingers, swaying gently as he talked.

Jim swiveled his bar stool to face Morgan, leaned back a little, and crossed his arms. “Cut the small talk, JD. Not that I don’t love to see you all, and lord knows I appreciate Jared’s cooking anytime, but why are we all here tonight, and what’s with all the secrecy? What’s going on?” He glanced at Jared, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “We’re not talking maternity leave already, are we?”

Jensen’s eyebrows shot up and his head turned sharply toward Jared. Jared was already watching him, eyes shining, a secret smile on his lips as he shook his head almost imperceptivity. Jensen swallowed, tamping down the unaccountable sadness that washed over him, though he was comforted by a surge of love through their bond.

Jensen smiled at his mate gratefully, he hadn't thought children would ever be in the cards for him, but the idea made his decision to make a home for himself in Munter’s Gorge all the more right. “Whoa, this is Jeff’s meeting and no, no baby news…not yet anyway. And, before you ask, I’m not going back to work for the Division either.” He glanced back at Jared, a fond smile on his lips as he imagined a boy with dark, floppy hair and tip-tilted eyes like his daddy running around the yard.

Jim blew out a relieved breath. “Well thank goodness. Not about the pup, but about the Division. Williams is a damn pushy bastard.” Jim waved his hands, “You know what I mean. So then, why are we here?”

“I was going to wait until dinner to talk about this…” Jeff glanced at Jensen, who shrugged. “I guess we could dive right in. But first, I need your promise that you won’t breathe a word of what I’m about to say here to anyone. What I have to tell you could put us all in danger. Are we agreed?”

All three of them stared at Jeff, in surprise, but after only a slight pause, all nodded in agreement.

“This isn’t something we usually talk about with outsiders.” Jeff growled, glancing over at Beaver. “But with Jensen going to the Bureau, we, the members of the council, thought maybe this was our one big chance.”

“Well thanks a bunch, that’s the treatment I get after safeguarding every were in Munter’s Gorge for close to thirty five years? I’m an outsider now, am I? Wonderful. Just friggin’ wonderful.” Jim burst out, affronted. He set down his beer and stood up.

Jeff rose as well, shaking his head and reaching a hand toward the sheriff. “That’s not what I meant, Jim. It’s just…”

“What the Sam Hell is it, then? Who just put their career on the line to forge a false death certificate for one of your own the other day? Fuck you, ‘alpha!’ The people of Munter’s Gorge, human and were alike, are all under my care. And I think I deserve a little more trust that being labeled ‘outsider’ for all I do for you folks.”

Jensen stepped between the two men, an arm on each one’s shoulder. “Wait, guys. Let’s just take a breath. I’m sure that came out a bit wrong.”

Jeff and Jim were already nose to nose as Jeff growled, “It’s not your dedication I’m doubting, Jim. It’s your sense of furious indignation I’m worried about, and this is a touchy subject. I wasn’t trying to exclude you, what I wanted to do was not take your agreement for granted. You don’t know everything I’m going to tell you, because parts of it we’re simply not proud of.” Jeff ran agitated fingers through his hair. “Please hear me out, my friend.” Jeff laid his hand on Jim’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

With a disgruntled huff, Jim backed away, letting Jeff’s arm fall to his side. Taking his seat on the bar stool he grumbled, “Okay, I’m still listening.”

Nodding gratefully, Jeff squeezed his hands together, “First off, I guess I need to start with the fact that I think we all know the pack has been taking in the odd drifter that comes into town, and Jim’s been covering for us for years. What you all don’t realize is that some of them have come from the Rez.” There was a hush, a shocked little silence that greeted that statement, and Morgan met each gaze squarely before he went on. “We’ve been smuggling weres out of the Rez for years, not in huge numbers, but a steady trickle. Or we were, at least until the last few months.”

There was a clatter in the kitchen as Jared, in delayed reaction, dropped the knife he was using to carve the roast. He moved closer to the group to ask, “Why didn’t I know about that? Why didn’t we all know?”

Morgan sighed deeply, rubbing over his mouth and beard with his hand. “It’s deliberately kept a secret," he said. "Only the Council and key members of the pack’s inner circle know. Pellegrino didn’t even know. That’s how we’ve been able to pull it off for so long, need to know only.” Jeff hung his head, hands jammed into his pockets while he composed his thoughts.

“What’s so terrible about that?” Jensen wondered.

Jeff started to pace up and down the length of the dining room. “It’s not getting weres out that’s the problem, it’s that we also smuggle some in.”

“Why would you be sending weres into the Rez?” Jensen’s arms dropped to his sides and he stepped back from Jeff in confusion. “Jared mentioned something about if I’d proven to be a threat to the pack, that if you had been in charge at the time, I’d have simply woken up on the Rez one morning. But I didn’t think he was serious. I don’t understand. Why would you send anyone in there on purpose?”

Jim’s expression was as confused as Jensen imagined his own was. All of them watched Jeff, waiting for an explanation.

“It doesn’t happen all that often. But every once in a while, for the safety of the pack, we have to send a were inside. Those that kill, or maim, we take care of ourselves. Those that we think won’t kill but have betrayed the pack, we shun. But then, there’s the ones whose turning goes wrong. The were that can’t control his shift, or hers, or the impulses of their wolf." Jeff's features twisted in pained sympathy. “They become a danger to themselves, and to everyone around them. Occasionally, too, there's the weres who just can’t adapt to the change. They go kind of crazy.” He searched their expressions, hoping for understanding. “We can’t just kill them. They’re not evil people, it's not their fault. But we just don’t have the resources or the space to deal with them, and they’re a danger to themselves and their pack.”

Remembering the bottle he’d set on the dining room table, Jeff grabbed it up and took a long swallow before he continued on. “Sometimes it’s as simple as an older were volunteering to go to the rez before they die, so a younger were can go free.”

Jensen’s mind was spinning at the possibilities. No hunter had even an inkling that this kind of thing was going on under their noses.

“When those situations come up, we have a very modest system to bring weres from other communities here, and then we smuggle them, and any of ours, into the Bighorn Rez. We can’t do it very often because we can't take a chance on the guards noticing.”

Jared came to stand by Jensen, his fingers lacing through Jensen’s as they listened to Jeff’s story.

“How do you smuggle them in?” Jensen asked.

“The uranium mines go all underneath the Rez, some even cross under the boundary line. A small group of weres have worked for years to dig a few exits, but they can only use them once in a while. They’re prone to cave ins. The guards know tunneling attempts are likely, so they use pulse canons around the rez perimeter on a regular basis to collapse any tunnels. Many have died trying to smuggle out the most abused, or the sickest weres.” Jeff ran a hand over his mouth. “The problem is, that in the last year, the shock collars have ground our smuggling operation to a halt.”

“But, what do the shock collars have to do with it?” Jensen asked.

“Since Omnundson has taken over as Director of Werewolf Affairs, he’s instituted a policy that all alphas wear shock collars with trackers on them at all times. So far, they've proven pretty damn tamperproof. Shock collars aren’t new to the division, but the new twist is there's an explosive charge in each collar, and if the right key isn’t used once a were crosses the rez perimeter," Jeff's eyes widened, and his fingers spread wide. "‘Boom!’ We’ve lost three men, so far, to the damned things.”

 

“Jesus.” Jim breathed, eyes wide. “Why haven’t we heard about this on the news?”

“No one has, and no one will. Omundson has classified this Top Secret in the Bureau and, following his lead, Sheppard hasn’t let a word of this out anywhere. Also I imagine, Omundson has Sheppard’s nuts in a vice. He’d know about his extracurricular bordello operation, and Sheppard wouldn’t want to put his little retirement fund in jeopardy. Civil servants aren’t that well paid, so he’d keep his mouth shut and make sure no one investigates his ‘best practices’ on the rez.”

Morgan started to pace back and forth again in agitation, “Oz has been working on the problem, but it’s been slow going. The bastards used the latest tech the CIA developed for criminals on the collars, adding in a bit of silver to prevent shifting and, ‘Voila!’ no one’s going anywhere. Terrorists and weres, all lumped in together in one tidy package. It’s a wonder Omundson doesn’t get a medal. He’s probably bucking for one.” Jeff looked lost as he stood in the middle of the room, beer bottle hanging forgotten between his fingers.

“I didn’t know, Jeff," Jensen said. "I’m so sorry. I’m sure given time, Osric can solve the collar problem. Maybe once your operation is back online, I can help.” Jared squeezed Jensen’s hand in approval before letting go to return to the kitchen.

Jeff stared hard at Jensen. “That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you…You and your mate. But now, I’m not so sure. I don’t know, son. You’re so new to all this.”

Jensen chuckled, “New at this," he shrugged agreement, from his brief experience as a were. "But I’ve got fifteen years in the Hunter Division, hardly a probie. What do you need? I’ll help however I can.”

Blowing out a relieved breath, Jeff said, “Good to know.”

Back at Jensen’s side, Jared thrust a large platter of carefully sliced roast into his hands. “Well this may not be a great time to interrupt this chat but dinner is ready, whatever you need will have to wait until after dinner. Come on, everyone, let’s eat while everything is hot.”

Prodded into action, Jensen found a place on the table for the platter.

“Jensen, if you could open the wine, I’ll get Kim’s salad, to start.” Jared said, removing the plastic wrap from the pretty ceramic bowl.

“And suddenly, I’m starving.” Jeff’s eyes crinkled and he chuffed out a relieved laugh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you on the salad, though.”

 

Supper was a companionable affair, and by unspoken, mutual consent, all four men left off the topic of weres and smuggling while they tucked into the tender roast and garlic creamed potatoes, with fried onions and gravy, and fresh tender broccoli. Baked summer squash rounded out the meal, and nods of approval and hums of appreciation filled the room as they ate their fill. It wasn’t until later, when they were all sitting in the living room in front of the crackling fire with dessert plates of Jared’s homemade coconut cream pie and mugs of fresh coffee in hand that the subject came up again.

Jim groaned, leaning back in his chair and rubbed the small pot belly he’d developed after the meal. “I haven’t had a meal like that since the last time you invited me over, Jay. You’re killing me, here. I won’t be able to eat now for a week.”

“Yes, great job, Jay.” Jensen patted Jared’s knee and with a smirk he glanced at Jeff, “Tell Kim, even the kale was good.”

Jeff snorted derisively, “Oh, you are so bad.”

“Well, it’s getting late, and these old bones can’t stay up as late as you fellers anymore, so let’s get back to the elephant in the room and finish this discussion about smuggling weres and escape hatches out of the Rez, and what, exactly, you need Jensen for?”

Setting his coffee aside, Jeff leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “It’s the collars. Osric has done everything he can think of. He's spent more than six months on it, but he can’t crack the code. He needs a man on the inside.”

There was a sharp twist in Jensen’s gut as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“And, that man is you, Jensen. You’ll be inside the belly of the beast in another couple of days. We need you to find the codes, and smuggle them out. We also need you to install a trap door, so Osric can get back in, if and when he ever needs to.”

“Holy hell, Jeff, I’m not a computer geek!” Jensen shook his head. “You’ve got the wrong man for the job. You’d be better off plotting to smuggle Oz inside than ask me. It would probably be half the job, with him not being a were.”

“No,” Jeff shook his head. “Osric assures me he can guide you through the process, and that it will be simple. He already has a DNA-coded flash drive with the code that will only operate for you. All you need to do is arrange for some quality alone time with a bureau computer.”

“That’s all…” Jensen said dryly imagining the secure work stations, constant surveillance and high grade security at the Bureau. “I can’t even guarantee I can smuggle myself in, let alone out again. Now I need to become 007?” Jensen laughed. Glancing quickly at Jared, Jensen cocked his head ready to wait to discuss this with Jared privately, but Jared squeezed his hand and, nodding his head, sent a wave of support though the bond. Smiling gratefully at his mate, Jensen shook his head, still dubious of any chance of success. “I don’t know. I’ll do my best for you, you know I will. But if I do this, you need to do something for me in return.”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed, “As your alpha, I don’t need to bargain with you, pup.”

“No you don’t, but we both want the same thing. To abolish the Reservation system.”

“I’m listening.” Jeff countered warily.

Jensen stood and walked to the sideboard, splashed some bourbon into three glasses, passing them out to Jeff and Jim before speaking. He offered one to Jared but, as expected, Jared refused. Jensen took a fortifying sip. “If I manage to get the collar codes out, what kind of numbers are we talking about here? How many would you be able to free with your current system?”

“Well normally, in the run of a year, we’re talking two or three. What were you imagining?”

“Something like that to start, a test run to make sure we’ve got the collar situation worked out, just two or three, but at one time. It’s more dangerous breaking in multiple times than doing it once.”

Jeff set his bourbon down. “But once we have the weres out, what do you suggest we do with them, Jensen? We can absorb the odd Dylan or two, but anything more becomes a problem. There’s five thousand weres on the reservation. Even if we only got ten or twenty out at a time, Munter’s Gorge can’t take them all in. Not without someone noticing. The town's close enough to the Rez that we’re on the Hunter’s watch list after any breakouts. So far, they don’t suspect anything, and that’s the way we want to keep it.”

“That’s been part of our problem all along. Where could we send them that they could be safe?” Jeff growled, “Don’t you think we haven’t thought about that, wanted to get more free? Then there’s the Hunters on our tails to contend with.”

Jensen tipped his head in acknowledgement, “No, I understand, I do. But I have some ideas. Maybe what you need is a fresh perspective on this. If you know how the hunter thinks, it’s that much easier to avoid him.”

“The kid’s got a point, JD. Wouldn’t hurt to hear what he has in mind,” Jim interjected, hoisting his glass toward Jensen expectantly.

“Supposing I can take care of the hunter problem for now, does the pack have any contacts? Somewhere we could move them where they would be safe? Are the other Reservations like this?”

“No, not all of them, but from what I hear from my contacts, at least half of them are like Bighorn, or worse, if you can imagine.” Jeff took a sip of his drink.

“Then the only real viable options we’ve got are Canada, or Mexico. They weren’t part of the Great War, and as you all probably know, neither country has ever enacted similar laws, nor is there anything like the Hunter Division in those countries. Neither of them has an extradition policy for weres, either.” Jensen clasped his hands around his glass.

Jeff tugged thoughtfully on his beard. “We’ve been building up a network for years, using Iron Ridge’s success to funnel money for support of displaced weres.”

“Well Canada’s certainly closer," Jensen mused. “Do you have any contacts in either country?”

“Iron Ridge Pack already has an alliance with the Clay River pack in Manitoba. They supply us with dyes for our wool, and they herd several varieties of sheep for us. With different sheep, the wool is different colors, textures, other qualities spinners and weavers look for. The Alpha there is Tamoh Penikett. He's completely on board, and has welcomed weres we’ve sent his way in the past."

“Penikett," Jensen's eyebrows rose. "I’ve heard of him. He’s on the Hunter Division’s most wanted list. As I recall, he’s listed as a pedophile.” he scowled. “I know I’m desperate, but not that desperate…”

Jeff snorted, “He’s no pedophile. That’s the Division's method of destroying his credibility. The man is an Iron Ridge board member and a great leader. His pack is strong. Over the last ten years, he’s taken in hundreds of refugees and strays, and helped form new were communities in the remote north. He’d be the person we should talk to if we’re talking mass exodus. Is that what we’re talking about here? You want a coup? Holy Goddess, Jensen...” Jeff raised his hands in the air. “This is big. Bigger than anything we’ve ever attempted. How could we even begin to pull this off, realistically?”

“Well maybe not something that big, or at least, not now, not yet. To start, more like two or three hundred weres, smuggled out through the tunnels, the sickest and weakest, including as many omegas as we can get our hands on.”

Jared squeezed Jensen’s hands and Jeff whistled, “Two hundred... If we can get them out and get them to Canada, Iron Ridge can fund the startup of a new pack. We’ve wanted to expand into more wool production already, and Manitoba is perfect for our apiaries as well. A satellite pack with a few of our people there would provide all of them with shelter, and a good living. It could work. It’s just—how do we get them out?”

“Don’t think I didn’t pick up on those key words, ‘to start,’ either, son,” Jim tossed back the last of the bourbon he had been sipping and moved to the bar to refill his glass.

Jensen held his breath. Jim’s involvement was crucial. It could set the whole project back to square one if the Sheriff was unwilling to help.

“Balls! I knew when I came here tonight I’d get roped into something. Always was a sucker for a good meal. What would my part be?”

Jensen licked his lips. The plan wasn’t complete yet, by a long shot. It had only started to come together in his mind as Jeff talked, so everything hadn’t actually been figured out and thought through yet. But Jensen realized he’d been thinking about it since his visit to the rez with Taylor and Patrick. It would take all their resources and contacts to do it. There were so many ifs, ands, and buts to wade through. But his gut told him it was doable, and they were all still listening to him, so Jensen bulldozed on.

“I’m thinking the first step is, we get some actual intel on the rez. Footage of what goes down at Sheppard’s bordello, and in the mines...something we could broadcast and cause a real stink for Sheppard. That’s where you come in, Jim. And after that, well, that's when the real fun begins.”

It was well past midnight when Jeff and Jim left the house, each with a laundry list of details to investigate further. Wearily, Jensen let Jared drag his unresisting body upstairs.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” Jared whispered as he eased Jensen down on the bed.

“Yeah,” Jensen grinned up at his mate, yanking on his arm so he sprawled over Jensen’s body with an undignified squawk, his chest pressed against Jensen’s. Quickly surrounded by the warm, spicy scent of mate and heat, Jensen’s cock began to plump. Tired as he was, excitement and adrenaline from the events of the evening were riding him and like a match to a flame, Jared's scent made Jensen’s body burn with arousal. Capturing Jared’s jaw, Jensen pulled him in closer for a kiss. “All I need to do now is make sure I get out of the Bureau alive.”

Growling, Jensen licked hungrily over the seam of Jared’s lips and, obligingly, his mate’s mouth opened. On a groan, Jensen’s tongue licked inside, laving over teeth and mouth, his tongue soon thrusting in and out, his breathing fast and shallow. He groaned into Jared's mouth as his hips bucked up to grind against his mate.

Jared whined, kissing him back frantically, only breaking away to press a line of kisses down his neck, his hand busy unbuttoning Jensen’s shirt and shoving it out of the way. Jared pulled his own turtleneck off over his head, and a sudden shiver ran through his body as they touched skin on skin.

"Jesus," Jensen whispered when Jared raised his head. He could feel the outline of Jared’s arousal through his pants, in line with his own. “Wanna fuck you, but I’m too exhausted to move.”

“Don’t you worry,” Jared grinned wolfishly, shoving himself up from the bed. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jensen almost whimpered at the loss of the warm, blanketing heat of Jared’s body against him. He watched appreciatively, through half closed eyes as his mate got busy shoving down his slacks and boxers, stripping off his socks, and then large hands reached for Jensen’s belt. Compared to Jared’s rapid rate of undress,he took his time with Jensen. Jensen closed his eyes, luxuriating in the slow slide of Jared easing his slacks down over his erection and tugging them off his legs. Next was the torturously careful slide of Jensen’s boxers off his body, leaving his rapidly hardening cock waving in the air.

When Jensen’s boxers finally flew through the air, Jared was back, straddling Jensen’s legs and pressing them in tight together. Jensen’s eyelids sprang wide in time to see Jared’s gaze pinned on the red bobbing length of Jensen’s cock. Jared’s mouth opened and that broad, generous tongue laved a long, wet stripe down his palm, then that big hand curled around both cocks, stripping them.

Jensen’s cock surged in Jared’s hand and he couldn't hold back a whimper. “Nngh, fuck baby, feels so good.” Jensen’s hands reached out to run along Jared’s thighs, tugging at his balls playfully. “My big boy.” Jensen grinned a dopey smile, as the velvety skin of Jared’s cock rubbed against his own.

Jared reached behind him, moaning softly, and Jensen could imagine his mate working himself open for him, long fingers pushing into his own warm, slick channel. Jared's back arched, and he tossed his head as sweat began to dot his body while his other hand jerked the two cocks in his grasp. Jensen couldn’t keep the smile from his face, at the sensation of the hot flesh pressed against his, the big hand rubbing over the tips of each dick, gathering the spurts of precome and using it to slick them both up, the rough drag of Jared’s fingers on his sensitive flesh. Jensen shivered and let his eyelids fall again to half mast.

Jared knelt up, and then his warm hand was guiding Jensen’s blood heavy cock to Jared’s wet hole. Keening softly, Jared lowered himself on Jensen’s dick, not stopping until he was fully seated.

“You with me?” Jared asked, his eyes dark and mysterious, as he loomed over Jensen’s prone body.

“Always,” Jensen moaned as Jared rose, exposing Jensen’s cock to the air of the room, only to plunge down again, sucking him back into Jared’s warm channel. “Fuck,” Jensen groaned, his hands scrabbling on Jared’s thighs in an effort to buck up. For all his patience undressing him, Jared now set a fast, desperate pace, one hand braced on Jensen’s chest, the other on his hip as he fucked Jensen’s dick deep into his body.

Brain offline at all the sweet shivery sensations bombarding his body, Jensen somehow managed to wrap his hand around the meat of Jared’s cock, working his mate’s shaft in unison with Jared’s driving rhythm. When Jensen’s knot started to thicken, Jared, impossibly, sped up, settling in even closer to Jensen on each fall, working Jensen’s knot deeper inside him with every stroke. The muscles of Jared’s ass quivered and fluttered around Jensen’s knot as they were forced wider and wider by the girth of it. Finally Jensen’s knot became lodged completely inside him. Panting, face screwed up in pleasure and pain, the walls of Jared’s ass trembled against Jensen’s rigid flesh. Jensen almost howled in pleasure when Jared unexpectedly started to twist his hips so the hard knot rubbed against Jared’s prostate over and over.

Jensen knew from Jared’s twitching flesh in his hand that Jared was close, and he started to strip his mate’s erection in rough counterpoint to his twisting motions, rubbing under the sensitive head. Jared’s toes curled after one particularly strong twist and he cried out, come shooting over Jensen’s tightly wrapped fist and Jared’s chest.

Lost in Jared’s reaction and the feedback loop of the bond, Jensen barely noticed when he started to come, his knot pulsing come deep into Jared’s body.

Jared collapsed in a sweaty, exhausted heap onto Jensen’s body and Jensen wrapped a supporting arm around him as he continued to pump load after load into Jared’s body. With his free hand, Jensen toyed with the swollen buds of Jared’s nipples, his mind turning instantly to thoughts of children. He wondered if Jared’s breasts would fill with milk, or if omegas were different from human mothers. He wondered about the taste, and gave Jared’s nipple another tug. That little floppy haired boy he’d imagined crossed his thoughts again, and his resolve hardened to see an end to the reservation system.

Tiny steps, he cautioned himself, hooking an arm around Jared’s neck and pulling his mate down to slump in boneless lassitude against him. Jared mouthed mindlessly at Jensen’s skin, licking and biting as Jensen’s knot continued to contract, pulsing load after load of seed bearing come deep inside him.

Jensen rolled them onto their sides, bringing his leg up over Jared’s ass to hook him in closer as he continued to spasm inside his mate. In his arms, Jared whimpered softly, blissed out and limp, already half asleep.

Tiny first steps, Jensen thought as he ran his hand through Jared’s sweaty locks, tucking his mate’s head into his shoulder to sleep. Tiny steps to win the war.

 

Comments always appreciated ^^


	9. The Forge — The Journey

 

 

 

Joshua Barns was as introverted and dry as Osric was extroverted and flamboyant, so it was a bit of a surprise when Kane picked up his guitar just before the next set and said, “So how about it? You guys game?” and Joshua stood up along with Jensen and Jason.

“Go get ‘em, killer.” Osric clapped Joshua on the arm. When he noticed the expression on Jensen’s face, he volunteered, “You wouldn’t guess it, but Josh is an awesome drummer. Just wait till you hear him.”

Threading their way through the crowd, Jensen realized he would soon be able to reclaim his guitar from his long abandoned apartment. He had gotten used to Kane’s backup instrument surprisingly quickly, but his own guitar was one of the few possessions Jensen was looking forward to having back in his hands.

“So, drums, huh?” Jensen said by way of conversation as they climbed onto the stage.

“Yeah, I played through university as a way of making extra cash. Been missing playing quite a bit, to be honest. But hey, if you guys would rather I sit this out, let me know?”

Kane tied his bandana around his head and looked Joshua up and down. “As long as you can really play, son, you’re more than welcome to join us. Just lose the suit coat, all right?”

Josh laughed nervously. “Sorry, Oz forgot to mention what kind of place we were going to, so I erred on the side of caution.” Stripping out of his coat, Josh quickly rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and stuffed the tasteful olive green tie in the jacket pocket. “So what are we doing?”

“How about Sister Christian?” Jensen offered, having played the song in the past.

Chris gave him the “really?” face, and Jason laughed, grinning until Chris finally shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man.” Jensen was well aware Chris knew the song, but the *Sister* Christian part always made him wince. If Jensen was honest with himself, Christian's flinch at the name was probably what he loved most about playing the song. Joshua and Jason both greenlighted the choice and, stepping up to the mic, Jensen kicked off their set.

They played five songs, changing lead singer between Jensen, Jason, and Kane, starting with Jensen on lead vocals with _Sister Christian_ , then Chris following up with _Run to You_ , and Jason covered Toto’s _Hold the Line_. Jensen fired back with his own variation on a Bruce Springsteen previously sung by Patti Smith, _Because the Night_. Looking through the crowd, Jensen could hardly take his eyes off Jared. His mate was on his feet, clapping through the whole set. It took a force of will to keep pace with Chris when the two of them brought it home with an acoustic version of Whitesnake’s power ballad, _Is This Love?_. The audience went wild with screams and requests for an encore.

“Leave ‘em hungry for more, gentlemen,” Kane advised as he led the way through the shouting and clapping mob, back to their table. Jared was still whistling when they finally reached their chairs, those long elegant fingers between his lips making Jensen burn with desire. Jared’s eyes gleamed with pride, and Jensen had to discreetly adjust himself when Jared slid an arm around him and he found himself with an armful of exuberant omega.

“You guys killed it up there tonight, man!”

Jensen grinned and swooped in for a kiss. He could taste beer and something sweet—probably the lollipop Jared had been sucking on earlier—and something that was pure Jared. He growled as Jared pulled away, breathless and pink cheeked from the kiss.

“Hey, settle down, you two. We may have to go again later tonight, and do it all over again.”

One arm around Jared, Jensen leaned back in the booth and slapped Joshua on the back, “Way to go, man. Who knew beneath that prim and proper exterior lay the beating heart of a rock star?”

Josh grinned at all of them, “You don’t know how much I missed this. Thanks, guys.”

“Hey, don’t thank us, brother. You were a hit. We’ll need you here again.” Kane pursed his lips and nodded, “Maybe we could even start practicing together when the marshal’s back?”

“That’s like what, in a couple of weeks, Jen?” Jason knocked back his shot of tequila and leveled an expectant look at Jensen.

Jensen frowned after taking a swig of his beer. “Yeah, hopefully not even that long. I leave next week, drive down to pack up my shit and turn in my badge, and come home. A week or two, give or take, and then all I’ll be is a simple country sheriff.” At the idea of heading back to the Bureau, Jensen’s knee started to judder up and down under the table. Unobtrusively, Jared slipped a hand under the table and squeezed Jensen’s knee, holding it still. The intimate touch sent a wash of calm through Jensen’s whole body and he leaned in so their shoulders touched. The look of calm reassurance in Jared’s eyes made the corners of Jensen’s mouth curl in a faint self deprecating smile, and Jared grinned.

Kane snorted. “Yeah, like that’s ever likely to happen. Nothing simple about you, Jen. What about you, Jay, what are you gonna do in the meantime?”

Jared blew a silent kiss Jensen’s way before turning to reply to Kane. “I thought I’d stay in town. The Calders said they’d look after the horses for us, and I haven’t spent a lot of time with Taylor or the kids, so I’ll probably be at my apartment. Why? Want to come visit? I could cook dinner for you and Steve one night.”

“Yeah man, sounds good. I’ll check with Steve, but I’m sure he’s game.”

“Oh yeah, come to dinner as soon as I’m gone. What’s up with that?” Jensen grinned, softening the words. In truth he was happy that Jared still had the apartment in town. The farmhouse was quite a ways out, and it would be nice for his mate to be able to spend time with his friends. He and Jensen had been holed up at the farmhouse together for the last two months.

“Well, we were trying to leave you two lovebirds alone for a while, but, hell, that’s over now.” Chris grinned. “And Steve’s just changed to day shifts, so getting together won’t be the logistical nightmare it has been for the last six months. I was getting pretty sick of working while he’s sleeping, and the times when I was home he’d be pulling a double at the hospital. It was hard to get some time together, let alone any with friends. Steve might even be able to practice with us now.”

“What’s he play?” Josh asked, leaning in, curious.

“A mean mandolin, but he also plays guitar and piano. And he writes his own stuff, too.”

Joshua’s smile widened. “Cool. This is all the makings of a much better band than the one I played with in college. All we had were electric bass players.”

Jason snickered, and Chris jabbed him with his elbow, “Don’t scare off the newb!”

“Anyone want another beer?” Oz stood and took count. “Oh shit, Jensen, I’m going to need another set of hands for all this.”

Good naturedly, Jensen gave Jared’s arm a quick squeeze before sliding out of the booth. On the way up to the bar, Osric said, “So are you okay? You having second thoughts about going?”

Jensen looked around, careful that they weren’t overheard before answering, “Well, this new software code thing isn’t helping. Let’s just say I’ll be glad when it’s all done.”

Oz ordered, and as they waited at the bar for their order to be filled, he leaned his head in closer, "I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before. Morgan was hoping that you’d settle in and it would be okay. I would have told you sooner if I could.” Oz looked down at the old mahogany bar top guiltily. “But, don’t get your panties in a bunch that this is untested or anything. Once I knew for sure I’d hit a dead end trying to do this from the outside, we’ve just been waiting for the right opportunity or person to come along. That now being you.” Tossing the paper decal he’d been toying with aside, Osric looked Jensen in the eye. “I know this will work, Jensen. My code is brilliant, if I do say so myself, and it’s idiot proof, no offense intended, total plug and play. We’ll go over it all again one more time on Monday, before you leave, and I’ll show you again how to copy the data over. It’s going to be a snap, don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Just remember, you can contact me if anything goes sideways. I’ll be online all that week, monitoring your channel. Morgan’s little add-on mission should be a piece of cake.”

Their order arrived and the two men gathered up their drinks. “I hope so, man,” Jensen said as they made their way back to the table, their hands full. They arrived just as Jason finished saying something funny. Jared’s eyes were screwed up with laughter and he tossed his head back, the light of the bar catching on his gorgeous cheekbones and long, elegant neck.

Yeah, Jensen would make this work. He had too much to lose, now.

“There’s no way I can talk you out of this, is there,” Jared asked as they lay nestled together in bed a couple of nights later. Jensen’s fingers combed repeatedly through Jared’s hair, the motion soothing them both.

“Come on, between Oz and me, we got this covered. Nothing can go wrong. I’ll be fine.” Jensen moved, easing back so he could look Jared in the face. The idea of postponing the trip to the Bureau any longer was like ants marching over his skin. He was tired of this trip hanging over him like a sword; he wanted to have done with it all, and get back to his life.

“I don’t care what you say. You know a hell of a lot could go wrong.”

“Well maybe, but I’m well prepared. Besides,” he cautioned reasonably, “Williams is waiting for me to arrive, now. God knows what he might do if I don’t get there on time.” He tickled Jared’s ribs as he asked, “Anything I can bring back for you from the great state of Texas?”

Jared pursed his lips in concentration, and it took everything Jensen had to wait for his mate to answer and not start kissing him silly right then and there.

“A big belt buckle.” Jared finally announced, twisting in Jensen’s arms and wriggling onto his side, so he could look back at him. “With ‘Texas’ on it! Maybe you could even find one that says ‘Everything’s bigger in Texas’. Although I suppose that’s a lot of words for a belt buckle.” He let out a bark of laughter, grinning at Jensen. His smile slowly faded as his eyes grew serious. “I don’t want a belt buckle, I want you back. Promise me you’ll come back.”

Jensen’s arms tightened around his mate, fingers slowing to grab a length of his hair, pinning Jared in place as he laid a trail of kisses across his shoulder blades. Jared moaned and tried to struggle, “No, you’re trying to distract me….”

Jensen grinned wickedly before moving in for a long, slow kiss, their tongues twining and tangling. Jensen released his mate’s lips to blaze a trail of butterfly kisses along Jared’s neck. Jared’s guttural moan into the pillows sent a flare of triumph through Jensen. Determined to drive his mate crazy, his free hand sneaked underneath to pluck at Jared's nipples, squeezing and twisting the little nubs to life.

Jared's moans went straight to Jensen’s already half hard cock, and his wolf bristled with need. Jared tried to turn, to face Jensen, but Jensen had other ideas. With a growl, he bit down gently on the meat of Jared’s shoulder, holding his mate tight as he rolled them both so that Jared was flat on his belly, Jensen crouching over him on the bed with Jared pinned beneath him.The predator in Jensen savored the moment, and the flare of arousal he could smell leaking off his mate assured him Jared was loving it, too.

Jensen loosened his hold on Jared’s shoulder long enough to whisper, “Relax, relax, relax.” He laved his tongue lovingly over his bite mark, kissing between Jared’s broad shoulder blades while his hand slid along Jared’s body, and between the cheeks of his ass. He pressed and swirled the pad of his thumb along Jared’s rim, circling it again and again until slick started to leak from his tight entrance.

With a triumphant growl, he started to push his thumb in and out of Jared’s quivering opening, rhythmically squeezing his ass cheek as he pressed in just deep enough to loosen the tight muscle, then stretching it slightly each time before retreating.

Jared began to squirm, rubbing himself against the bedsheets as he moaned softly, his hungry hole clutching and tightening around Jensen’s thumb, trying to suck it deeper into his body. Satisfied with the prep, Jensen withdrew his thumb. His mate whined, bucking back against Jensen in protest, and Jensen’s teeth returned to tighten on his neck. Only when his mate obediently settled did Jensen hum in approval and continue.

Picking up where he left off, Jensen started to rub his dick along Jared’s crease, carefully coating it with his mate’s slick. Teasingly, he nudged against Jared’s hole, his hips moving forward and back in a steady rhythm. Once Jared was leaking a continuous stream of slick, Jensen slipped the broad head of his cock just inside the rim, and then slid back out with a wet plop. Jared started to whine, bucking back against Jensen's cock, trying desperately to hold onto it.

Taking pity on his desperate mate, Jensen released Jared’s neck with a rough growl. “Wanna fuck you baby, knot you so hard you’ll feel me the whole week I’m gone.” Jensen nipped at Jared’s jaw with canines that had grown suddenly longer and Jared’s mouth fell open, slack with arousal. Jensen rubbed his stubbled chin against the flushed red skin of his mate's shoulders, “You with me? Want me to fuck you so hard you walk bow-legged for days?”

Jared blinked, lost in sensation. Finally on a gasp Jared moaned, “Fuck me, _pleasepleaseplease_...”

And Jensen was sliding in like it was home, making a place for himself inside Jared’s body in one long, smooth thrust, his mate so tight around him it almost hurt. Then Jensen was thrusting, hips snapping, pounding furiously into his mate again and again. Jared tried to slip one hand under his body, his dick boned up tight against his belly, but Jensen grabbed his hands and shoved them above Jared’s head, pressing them against the mattress as he growled into his ear, “Keep them there. You come on my dick or not at all.”

Jensen's wolf snarled in approval and he wrapped his arm around Jared’s waist, pulling him up to kneeling. With the easier angle, he fucked into Jared like a freight train. His hands clenched tightly around lean hips, he looked down at Jared’s entrance. In the moonlight he could see the darker skin of his knot as it pressed in, stretching Jared’s hole impossibly wide. When he retreated, Jared’s entrance fluttered and gaped, begging to be filled.

Close to coming, Jensen’s hands moved from Jared’s hips to his shoulders as he gave one final desperate thrust, burying himself inside his mate. He could see marks where the sudden appearance of claws had scratched his mate, but was finding it hard to care as he started to come, himself. He leaned in and bit down once more on Jared’s shoulder. Jared screamed as he came, his whole body arching back against him. Jensen could feel the walls of Jared’s channel spasming around him as he orgasmed. He arched his neck and roared as load after load of his seed pulsed deep inside his mate, and he saw stars. The spicy scent of Jared’s seed filled the room as he came untouched over the sheets, and then sagged into the wet spot in exhaustion.

When Jensen’s brain finally came back online, he rolled them onto their sides, spooning his sweat soaked body around his mate’s, and flipped the duvet over them. The scent of sex was sharper, now that Jared was on his side, and Jensen reached around to scoop up a ropy string with his fingers and bring it to Jared’s lips, pressing it inside his mate's mouth.

“Mine…” Jensen rumbled, and Jared shuddered weakly against him, lapping at his fingers as Jared’s cock spurted out a final few dribbles.

“Sleep, love.” Jensen ordered, kissing him gently on the shoulder. With an exhausted sigh, Jared’s eyelids fluttered obediently closed.

Jensen lay there, enjoying the warm weight of his mate in his arms. The growing glow of the moon filled the bedroom, and Jensen wanted to howl, to bite, to pull his mate even closer. He settled on rocking his slowly deflating knot inside Jared’s body, his fingers toying playfully with his mate’s spent cock.

He fell asleep holding his mate's cock protectively in his hand, his own still hard knot continuing to pulse load after load of seed into the sleeping man. Jensen licked a line along Jared’s shoulder and was rewarded with a pleasing taste of their mixed scents etched deeply into Jared’s skin. Confident that he’d marked his mate up sufficiently to last while he was gone, Jensen let his eyes drift closed, waiting for sleep to take him.

“You’re sure you have everything?” Jared leaned in the Rover window. It was late February, the mountains of the Gorge still jealously holding the cold close to her bosom, unwilling to let go. Jared was dressed in a black parka and the ubiquitous white beanie he wore everywhere. It took everything Jensen had to keep his fingers from snatching it off his head so he could run them through Jared’s silky locks. Instead he cupped his palm against Jared’s cheek, rubbing his thumb along across his lips. His mate turned into the comforting touch, eyelids fluttering closed as his pink tongue darted out to lick Jensen’s thumb.

With a reluctant sigh, Jensen released his mate, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “I have everything, and we have gone over everything six ways to Sunday. It’s time to go, Jay.”

“What are you looking forward to most?” Jared's smile was strained, but Jensen played along in a fruitless attempt to calm his mate’s nerves.

“Hmm, well, it’ll be good to see some of my friends again. I’m interested to see them through my wolf’s eyes, but I think he’ll approve. And I’m kind of itching to play my guitar again. I’ve missed it. My grandpa bought it for me on my sixteenth birthday, and it’s been with me ever since, through thick and thin.”

“What does it look like?”

Jensen knew Jared was stalling for time, knew his mate was sick with worry over the trip. Gentling his voice he replied, “It's got a honey finish, with a nice black and bronze inlay around the sound hole. It's a sweet play. The other thing I want to bring back is a bronze plaque my grandfather had over the fireplace, ‘ _Fortis in arduis_ ’, Brave in difficulties. I don’t know why, but I always loved that motto. It was always the way grandpa lived his life and how I wanted to live mine. You know?”

Turning away to look out over the fields, Jensen stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood there, unseeing. He hadn’t thought about his grandpa in a while and it made him sad not to have spoken to Jared about him before now. “It was mostly him and me after my family was killed.” He said, his voice soft, lost in memory, “Grandma was sweet but I hardly remember her, she passed away that first year I moved in. It was Grandpa Ackles who raised me. Saved me from becoming something else, from becoming Dylan, for one.” Jensen grinned a lopsided grin and turned to look at Jared.

Jared plucked tentatively at Jensen’s sleeve, avoiding his eyes. He flinched as his fingers accidentally touched Jensen’s black hunter gloves, coming into contact with the silver embedded material.

“Ouch” Jared sucked on the burnt digit and Jensen hastily stripped the gloves off throwing them in the cab window and grabbed up Jared’s hand to inspect the wound.

“I’m okay, it’s nothing. Seriously.” Jared’s hand was cupped tenderly in his, and Jensen had to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat.

“Forget that. Tell me what else you want.” Jared prompted.

Jensen gave him a grateful smile, kissing his kissing his fingertips. “I want to see that plaque here in our house. It will be like having a piece of him here with me—with us, you know? Other than that, there’s not much else, a piece of furniture or two, a few records and some photos I’d like to keep, otherwise it’s all pretty much going to the Goodwill or Rich, my landlord, whoever comes first. Not much to show for some thirty odd years on this earth.” Reluctantly, Jensen released Jared’s fingers, his hand tingling at the loss, climbed up into the cab of the Rover, and rolled the window down.

Jared surreptitiously dashed a tear from his eyes.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. I have so much more here than I ever did back there. Oh! And my coffee maker. Gotta have that. _Jared Java_ will never have tasted so good coming out of that baby.”

Jared’s puckish grin returned, as he placed his large hand on the frame of the window. “I want you to be careful. No heroics. I need you back here. In six to eight days, to be precise.”

Jensen nodded his agreement, and repeated the instructions he'd already gone over with Jared. “If anything does go wrong, just deny everything. Get to Osric fast for the skin tech, in case the Bureau descends on the house and decides to test you. Don’t come back here, stay in your apartment. Right now there is nothing in writing to link the two of us, as far as the government is concerned. Williams only knows you as my boyfriend. I’ve never said it was more serious than that.”

Jared looked away, swallowing. “I’m afraid, Jen.”

Tenderly, Jensen cupped his fingers under his mate’s jaw, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall from Jared’s pretty eyes. He carefully turned Jared’s head so they were looking at each other again, leaning to touch his brow to Jared's, and their combined breaths misted in the cold. Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the scent of his mate, the soft thrum of the bond between them. “I’m not leaving you.” He husked out, ”I’m coming back to you, for good.”

A fine tremor traveled under Jared’s skin, and Jensen reluctantly released him, his fingers feathering over Jared’s sharp cheekbones before he pulled his hand back. He needed to leave now, while he still could.

“I’ll call you tonight when I stop for the night. I should be in Dallas sometime tomorrow night.”

Jared nodded jerkily, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Jensen shuddered, closing his eyes at the spike of arousal that coursed through him.

Stepping back from the Rover, Jared wrapped his arms around himself, shivering as Jensen pulled out of the drive. In the rear view mirror, Jensen watched him for as long as he could. Just before a dip in the road lost him from sight, he could see Jared mouth, ‘Love you.’

“Love you too,” Jensen whispered.

Grimly, he tightened his hands around the wheel. If everything went well, he’d be back before Jared’s heat started.

: : :

Normally, Jensen found the hum of the road calming, allowing him time to concentrate, mentally prepare for the job ahead. But this trip, he kept losing focus, his thoughts racing off on odd tangents. Finally, he turned on the radio, something he normally never did while on the job. He trolled the dial aimlessly until he found a rock station belting out Motorhead’s "Ace of Spades" and cranked the volume to eardrum splitting decibels. The music helped crowd out his worries, and he spent the hours drumming his fingers on the wheel as Led Zeppelin, Kansas, and Motley Crew raged on.

His _Jared Java_ ran out somewhere south of Rapid City, South Dakota and he stopped at a truck stop to refill his thermos. The first thing that hit him was the diesel engine stink and smell of chemicals and unwashed truckers as he got out of the Rover. His wolf’s nose crinkled in distaste. Filling the Rover's tank, Jensen realized he hadn’t been much of anywhere since his turning, the trip to Townsend not really counting, as it wasn’t much different in size from Munter’s Gorge. And he certainly hadn’t traveled anywhere dressed as a marshal for months. He wasn’t sure what had changed, or if it was just him, but now all he and his wolf seemed to notice were not the respectful nods or salutes, but the sullen looks of suspicion as he walked toward the diner. His spine stiffened warily in reaction.

Pushing open the glass doors of the diner, Jensen’s nose was assaulted by a mix of human scents and, surprisingly, several were ones. The room quickly grew eerily quiet as the patrons turned almost en mass to give the Hunter at the door a good looking-over. Hostility radiated from the room, and one man, a human sitting at the counter near the entrance, even turned and spit after giving Jensen the side-eye.

Jensen’s gaze narrowed, his hand shifted to rest on the grip of his gun as he stared down the room. A waitress appeared at his side, human, fifty-ish, with badly dyed blond hair. She hurriedly escorted him to a booth in the corner of the room and Jensen took a seat. “We don’t get many marshals out here,” She said, handing him a scarred and battered plastic laminated menu. Her standoffish attitude made no bones of the fact that hunters weren’t much welcome there. Jensen ordered a sandwich and coffee and a refill for his thermos, and watched the room.

After a while, presumably after assuring themselves Jensen wasn’t going to shoot anyone, someone dropped a quarter in the jukebox and conversation picked up. A passing busboy, a were, almost dropped his tray when he walked by Jensen. Hastily grabbing it before it could slip, the boy scurried off. His waitress suddenly reappeared, forming a bulwark between him and the rapidly escaping busboy, slamming his coffee down on the table with a threatening scowl.

Jensen’s eyes narrowed. He had thought Munter’s Gorge was the exception, with weres living along side humans, protecting them, but maybe it went farther than that. He’d always been so preoccupied with each case, he’d never noticed before. Now, with his were senses, he was getting a reality check of how Hunters were really regarded, and it was not as the avenging crusaders he'd always believed they were thought to be.

He tried to spot more of his brethren, but were scents, whoever they were, had grown faint, as they'd quickly slipped from the room on Jensen’s arrival. Scarfing down his sandwich, he tossed a few bills on the table and shouldered his way out of the diner. He could hear the volume in conversation pick up as the door closed behind him.

It was the same whenever he stopped: for gas, for a room that night. A time or two, he stopped simply out of curiosity—all with the same results: begrudging respect, overlaid with resentment or disinterest. He decided not to mention it to Jared when he called. It would only worry his mate.

 

Comments always appreciated ^^  So this is the halfway point.

Maybe it's time to stop holding your breath, take a break, visit with the spouse or water the grass. And, of course drop your friendly neighbourhood author a line and tell her how she's doing. : P


	10. The Forge — The Offer

 

 

 

Pretty much on schedule, tired and more than a little road weary, Jensen pulled into the parking lot of his little bungalow in the Bishop Arts District in the cool of the second night. He dug in his pocket for his phone, but it was well past two in the morning Dallas time, too late to call, so he sent his mate a quick text instead. With Jared’s schedule at the bakery, he’d get it when he got up in another few hours.

He gazed down the street of modest single story bungalows. It had been a bit of a sketchy neighborhood when he’d first moved in, but it had the benefit of being close to work, and gave Jensen an extra half hour of sleep than he would have had otherwise. Over the years it had gentrified somewhat. Richard, his long time landlord and friend, had said the presence of a bona fide hunter in their midst didn’t hurt, either, but Jensen wasn’t so sure about that. He had never been home long enough to really make much of an impression, though it was true that, in the fifteen odd years he’d lived here, his place had never once been broken into.

He’d phoned ahead, and Rich had promised to air the place out and gather a few essentials in preparation for his arrival. Just the prospect of waking up in the morning and having to forage immediately for coffee made Jensen shudder.

As he pulled his bag out of the Rover and trudged up the front steps, he wondered if he’d always been oblivious to the growing resentment against hunters, or if this was some new trend? Did being a were make that much difference in his perceptions? Distracted, he fumbled with his keys, finally managing to open the finicky lock Rich had promised to replace for years, now.

Jensen’s wolf sniffed the interior cautiously. Good to his word, Rich had opened all the windows a crack, letting in the cool night air so the place was aired out and smelled fresh. His wolf relaxed a little when it determined that, other than his friend’s scent, no one had been inside for a very long time.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Jensen dropped his keys in the little bowl on the table near the front door and rolled his shoulders, stretching and bending his neck from side to side, glad to be out of the driver’s seat for a while. He nudged off his boots and ambled over to the fridge, stripping out of his shirt along the way, relaxing as the sense of home enveloped him. Slinging an arm over the top of the old icebox, he rooted through the supplies Rich had laid in. He reminded himself to thank the man again in person next time he saw him when he spied the case of beer he’d asked him to pick up.

The sharp snap of the can opening filled the kitchen and Jensen took a long, grateful swallow. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he held the cool can to his forehead for a moment before he looked down the hallway toward the bedroom. Morning would arrive all too soon, but he was too keyed up after the long drive to go straight to bed. He clicked on the television, instead. Flopping down into his prized lounge chair, he put his feet up on the matching ottoman, kicking off his shoes, intent on watching a bit of the tube before turning in.

Jensen sprawled lazily in the chair, nestling into the soft, broken in leather with a sigh. The chair had been one of his first big purchases when he’d first joined the Division, a designer item, a little bit of a stretch from his country boy roots. But after spying it in a funky antique shop downtown, he’d never regretted the purchase of the mint condition, walnut trimmed, articulated Eames Chair. It was the kind of chair he could easily have seen his grandfather settling back into as he smoked his pipe, reading his paper in the evenings.

He flicked aimlessly through the channels until he settled on an action movie, and sat sipping his beer, watching with the sound off as he let his old life seep back in. His gaze wandered toward his Police Academy graduation certificate hanging proudly on the wall, beside his first award for bravery, for taking down Frederic Lehne, all those years ago. His bookshelves were full of a dusty collection of detective and cowboy mystery paperbacks, a few decorative knickknacks supplied by various girlfriends along the way, and a few framed photos.

It wouldn’t take much to pack the place up, he realized. He’d thought there might be more, but really, the sofa, bookshelves and television could all stay here, same with the bed. Rich could do with it as he wanted. Other than the chair and ottoman, his guitar, his coffeemaker, and a few photos and mementos from his grandfather, there wasn’t much to pack. He’d spent so much time on the road the last few years, the place was more of a safe way station than a home. It made him a little sad to think his whole life could fit in the back of the Rover, or whatever car he rented to get back to Montana. His thoughts turning morose, he went to crack open another beer.

The movie credits were beginning to roll when Jensen woke. His ass ached after so many hours sitting in the same position in the Rover, and now the chair. Taking a last slug of the half empty beer he was still holding, he yawned and then rubbed his hand over his eyes. Clicking off the TV, he headed down the hall to find his bed.

 

Stretched out on top of the covers, Jensen lay there a long time, exhausted, yet unable to sleep. He listened to the neighborhood sounds, watched the occasional car lights wash over the blinds. It was strange to have so much noise at night, used as he was now to the relative quiet of the farm and the woods. He missed the peace and quiet and the sound of the wind on a cool night, whistling through the trees. Mostly, he missed the firm weight of Jared lying next to him, and realization dawned that this place wasn’t home anymore, and maybe never had been. Being here was almost like visiting a foreign land, a faded memory of a life he used to live. His wolf padded back and forth inside him, restless and on edge in the new surroundings. You and me both, Jensen thought resignedly, you and me both.

Jensen knew where home was now.

He arrived at work promptly at nine o’clock, just one of hundreds of hunters and office staff flowing into the forty story black behemoth of a building that was the Hunters' Division head office, the mothership, the Bureau of Were Affairs in the heart of Dallas’ downtown core.

He experienced a moment’s anxiety when he realized that the protocols to enter the building had changed in his absence. Armed hunters now stood on watch from the atrium and lobby floor, and a series of frosted glass security stations were now the means of entrance to the buildings' elevator banks, rather than the turnstile fingerprint readers Jensen was familiar with. For a moment he briefly debated going back to the Rover and calling Oz about the updated security, but quickly realized that if Osric hadn’t prepared him for these new systems, it was probably because they were so new, and he wasn’t yet aware of them. He needed to take a closer look and gather as much information about the new systems as he could.

Jensen followed along as the crowd flowed into twelve lines, one for each security station. At each station, the door cycled back, the person stepped up to the display, and the glass door eased closed behind them, leaving them contained in a cylinder of glass, like a large test tube. Once the person stepped inside, the glass became opaque and Jensen was unable to see into the tube until the door silently opened again, the compartment empty, and ready to accept another entrant, and the cycle repeated.

At no time did he see an alarm or flashing light, but then break ins at the bureau had always been a rare occurrence. Having gathered as much intel on the new systems as he could by eye, and still several people back from the front, he was about to leave the line, when a voice called out to him.

“Jensen! Jensen! Hey, Hi!” Misha Collins, Williams’ long time assistant, was four or five people ahead of him in the line. With a determined look on his face, Misha angled his body sideways, and with several muttered, “Sorry, Pardon me,” and one, “Whoops I do apologize, I hope that will wash out…” gradually worked his way back through the line to stand beside Jensen. Balancing his coffee and papers in one arm, Misha wrapped his other arm around Jensen and squeezed enthusiastically in greeting. “Jensen, my friend! So good to see you. You’re back!”

Jensen had to smile at the earnest blue eyes that stared into his. Rumpled hair standing up at the back, wearing an equally rumpled vest and bowtie, Misha came across as a little odd--he would have to be, to put up with Williams for the last fifteen years--but he was a good friend.

“Hey! Good to see you, too. How’s things? How’s Vicky?”

“Oh you know, the usual, saving the world, twice on Sundays. And Vicky’s great, we’re pregnant again…or she’s pregnant, I’m just nervous. Little Rachel’s going to have a new brother or sister in six months.”

“Wow, congrats. That’s awesome.”

Misha gave him another squeeze, letting go quickly when his papers and coffee started to tip. Were fast, Jensen snatched the coffee cup out of the air before it could fall.

“Whoa, gotcha ya slippery little bugger! Here you go.” Jensen passed the cup back to his friend after he had gathered up his scattered files. Misha eyed Jensen, speechless for once. “You don’t think they pay us marshals the big bucks without us having some skills, right?” Misha nodded hesitantly. Jensen rushed to change the subject. “So, as nice as it is to be here, what’s with the mondo-security? When did these monstrosities get put in?”

“Oh, right. They added those two weeks ago after a were or a were sympathizer made it to the fifth floor and stole some sensitive intel. I guess they were supposed to come on line later this year, but they rushed them into service.”

The line was moving forward quickly, if Jensen was going to make a move he needed to make it now.

“You know, I think I forgot something in the Rover. I’ll meet you upstairs.” Jensen started to leave, but Misha’s hand snaked out to grab Jensen’s arm.

“Sure it can’t wait? The line only gets longer for the next hour.I know Steve is anxious to see you, and he’s completely booked for the rest of the morning.”

Jensen glanced longingly at the front doors to the building, weighing his options and speculating realistically how much help Oz might be able to provide on such short notice. He’d simply have to roll the dice. He turned back, shrugging, and smiled at his friend, “Yeah, what the hell, it’s only a report, I’ll grab it later.”

They talked small talk in the line until it was Misha’s turn, “See you on the other side.” He waved, a goofy smile on his face as the panel slid closed behind him.

Jensen used the time before his turn to recall hunter mode: heartbeat calm, senses alert, but relaxed. He suspected monitoring of respiration and physiological responses was a likely new addition to more elaborate screening. He just hoped they continued to take blood samples in a traditional way or he would be completely sunk. The glass door opened, and Jensen let out a soft huff of breath.

Here goes nothing, he thought, and stepped up to the display. The glass door slid closed soundlessly behind him. Noise and light from the lobby were cut off as the walls turned an opaque white, and floodlights inside the booth intensified.

A monitor at eyelevel flickered to life and a dispassionate female voice directed, “Hold please for retinal scan.”

A digital blueprint of his eye appeared on the screen, highlighting signature vector points in his iris. Jensen held his breath. “New user detected…. Unconfirmed …Scanning database.” The computer simulated voice was cool, deliberately soothing and calm, with a slight metallic echo. Jensen's nose wrinkled at the slight antiseptic odor., Other than that, there were no discernible scents in the room besides Jensen’s, so there was decontamination after each use. Wolf quivered, hackles raised at the forced confinement, and Jensen tried to keep his heart rate under control. He knew a video monitor was probably also watching him so he pasted on a look of bored nonchalance.

“Please place your hand on the palm reader.”

On the glass wall in front of him a new panel lit up, glowing blue with a darker blue hand print in its center. Jensen aligned his fingers with the blue outline on the pad and pressed down. The skin tech wasn’t supposed to interfere with fingerprint analysis, but there was always a first time for everything. A white bar of light passed back and forth over his palm; his skin tingled.

“Hold please…”

Jensen wondered if this was a typical step in the process and why his identity wasn’t showing up. There was a slight hissing sound in the booth, inaudible to human ears Jensen was sure, but easily picked up by his were senses. Running his tongue across his bottom lip, Jensen could taste the new chemical being released into the air. He tried to keep his breathing steady. If it was a knock out drug it was already too late.

“We detect…we detect a firearm on your person. Please surrender it for analysis and place your hands and feet on the highlighted pads.”

Jensen’s eyebrows shot up as a clear glass door opened in front of him.

Unclipping his gun from its holster, he rechecked that the Taurus' safety was on before sliding it into the slot. As soon as his fingers cleared the slot, the glass door closed, and turned opaque. Just above shoulder level on either side of where he stood, two circles began to throb on the glowing white walls, Jensen could make out the outline of a hand inside the glowing spots. Bracing his elbows against each wall, he placed a hand on the sides of the glass and glanced down. As soon as his hands were in place the throbbing stopped and the dots only glowed white.

Glancing down at his feet he could see two glowing foot pads had appeared on the floor. He spread his legs to position his feet over the prescribed locations and again the throbbing white stopped.

Sweat was beginning to trickle down his brow under the hot lights, and Jensen flinched when manacles snapped out of the sides and floor of the cylinder capturing his wrists and ankles. Though he had long sleeves on he could feel the silver burn where his shirt cuff fell short of his wrists. The pain was tolerable, but would definitely leave a mark.

“Please hold while we analyze your weapon for permits and registration.” The mechanical voice soothed.

“A blood sample will now be taken now to confirm your identity, please press your left index finger against the red dot.”

Jensen froze, his mind blanking out momentarily, the blood tests on the previous security turnstiles had always been taken from the right index finger. Jensen shivered in response, his heart hammering like a drum, the specter of discovery looming over him. Sensitive to his distress, Wolf went mad, snarling and biting, at the sudden forced restriction.

It took every hard won inch of alpha control for Jensen to force Wolf down, back into a corner of his mind as he battled his own reaction to the too small booth, and too tight cuffs, finally succeeding, only to find Winters' and Foldbrook’s faces looming over him. Jensen flinched, jerking his arms in an instinctual attempt to pull free, the metal cutting into his wrists as he was thrown back into that dark shed as Foldbrook’s hand slid coarsely down his hip and rubbed across the cheek of his ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing painfully. Jensen grunted in protest, writhing uselessly, trapped. His fingers scrabbled against the slick wall of the cylinder finding no purchase as he tried to jerk free. “No,” he whispered.

“You say that now, but once I’m balls deep, you’ll sing a different tune, pretty boy.” The memory of Foldbrook’s voice snickered, low and dirty in his ear.

The sharp hiss of some new drug being pumped into his prison snapped Jensen back to the present. With the new scent, Wolf started to calm almost immediately. Jensen had to squelch the sick feeling in his gut as the sedative infiltrated the room that he had somehow betrayed himself. Squeezing his fingers into a fist to prevent him from scratching at the panels, he tried to hide the gulping breaths he was forced to take until his panic finally dissipated. Was this regular procedure or had they detected something? And, if this was it, if they had found him out, he couldn’t even go down fighting, hanging here like a prize turkey all wrapped up and ready for processing.

Blowing out a soft breath, he concentrated on reining in his galloping heart rate. He could only keep going on the slim hope they had spotted nothing yet. A soft pinging sound caught his attention and he realized the system was repeating new orders over and over again. He wondered how many times they had to be repeated before a flag went up on the system.

He cocked an ear and forced himself to concentrate on the new instructions. Keeping his panic firmly in check he pressed his index finger against the red glowing dot as requested. The pinging stopped and he could hear a tiny ‘snick’ sound as a needle projected out of the wall and took a sample. This wasn’t the hand Jensen usually gave blood samples with. He had expected them to sample the blood cup on his right index finger. Swallowing hard, totally vulnerable at this point he waited, counting backwards from one hundred in his head. He was at fifty when the computer voice finally came back online.

“Welcome Hunter Ackles.”

The manacles on his hands and ankles sprang opened and Jensen slumped forward, letting his hands drop to his sides in numb surprise. Gathering his shredded his wits about him, he tugged down his long sleeves to cover the small ridge of burned and abraded skin at his wrist, hoping he could heal before anyone spotted the wounds.

The computer's voice returned, “Your weapon has been cleared and registered with the system, and your retinal scan is now on permanent file. Welcome to the Bureau of Werewolf Affairs, Marshal Ackles.”

The small glass door opened and, resisting the urge to rub his throbbing wrists, he retrieved his gun.

“Your presence has been requested by Captain Steven Williams, thirty seventh floor, room 3742.” The booth’s indifferent tones informed him. “Thank you for your patience. Have a good day.”

The door slid open on the other side and Jensen holstered his weapon. Misha was waiting on the other side.

“Creepy as hell isn’t it?” Misha rolled his eyes, gesturing toward the glass booths.

Jensen scowled. “Yeah. I never knew I was claustrophobic, until now.”

“You’re lucky, by now most of the bugs are worked out. The first few weeks we had these wonderful little treats installed, there were some major glitches. Not to mention a few very embarrassed employees. Good thing they left out the anal probe option or everyone would have quit by now.” Misha slapped his back companionably and, Winters and Foldbrook still whispering in his head, Jensen had to resist the urge to dance away to avoid being touched. Oblivious, Misha continued his conversation as they walked toward the elevator banks. “Don’t worry though, the next time won’t be nearly so arduous, it’s on the first scan they really stick it to you. After this, it’s a two second retinal scan, and the occasional random check.”

“Thank goodness. That’s not something I’d look forward to every day. So what’s been going on around here, what else is new with you, my friend?”

An empty elevator arrived and they both stepped in, the doors sliding closed before anyone else could join them. Alone, Jensen relaxed enough to even smile as Misha related a particularly hilarious story about Williams being hit on by one of the new directors in finance. “I mean the woman wouldn’t take no for an answer, she even called him into a late night meeting, and had it all set up as a date with catered food and everything, in her office. Finally Steve had to tell her he just didn’t swing that way. I can tell you though, he’s quite smitten with that sheriff of yours, Jim… Beaver. I can see him visiting you a lot more often in the future… Because you know he’s not going to let you just leave, don’t you? He’s going to put up a fight, right?”

Standing at parade rest as the car rose through the building, Jensen had casually clasped his hands behind his back and used his thumbs to pick at the fake fingertip cap on his left index finger before it started to leak. He’d have to thank Osric later for advising him to add the caps to both fingers just in case. Once he was able, he peeled off the cap and slid it into a tissue he had ready in his pocket, for disposal later.

Realizing he’d zoned out of the conversation, Jensen rushed to answer. “Yeah, I know, but I have a pretty good reason to stick to my guns on this. And I love the town, too, the people in it. It’s home now.”

Misha glanced back at him grinning impishly, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’m happy for you, my friend. You’ve been on the road too long, I’m glad you finally found somewhere to really call home. You’ll have to tell me more about it. I know Steve wants us all to go out to dinner. And speaking of, how are you? Williams told me about that run in with the were last week. Jesus, he could have killed you… if Williams and that sheriff of yours hadn’t found you in time… But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, it was pretty tense, I was trying to bring this young were in, and I thought I had him convinced to turn himself in peaceably, but then everything went sideways. Damn sad, he was just a kid, a stupid kid. He panicked. Now he’s a dead kid.”

“Ahh, such a waste of life. That is sad, but you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t force him to run.” The soft bing as the elevator arrived at their floor interrupted them. “Well, here we are. Steve wanted you to go right in. We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’m going to be here for at least a couple of days. Am I still in the same workstation?” Jensen glanced down the hall where his cubicle had been last time he was here for any amount of time.

“Yeah, nothing’s moved. Though I had to fight off a few newbs that were eyeing your scenic view.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Thanks for protecting it for me.” Jensen slapped Misha’s shoulder and strode down the hall to the captain’s office. He knocked on Steve’s door, and went right in without waiting.

Steve glanced up, and pushed away from his computer when he saw it was Jensen. Taking off the reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, he gestured for Jensen to sit. “Jensen. Good to see you. I was glad you could keep to our original schedule, what with the incident with the were, and all.”

Jensen grinned a little lopsidedly, “What, and miss that marvelous welcoming ceremony in the lobby?”

Steve snorted, “Yeah, the big bosses put those in a couple of weeks ago, now. Can’t say I feel much safer standing in one of those when things go wrong. But on to you.” Williams didn't waste any more time on chitchat, charging right into the subject foremost on his mind. “I know you want to make a clean sweep of it, hand in your badge and gun and head for the hills to hide away with that giant boy toy you’ve found, but I have a proposition for you. You willing to hear me out?”

Jensen chucked at the thought of Jared being referred to as a giant boy toy. He wasn’t sure if his mate would be upset or proud of the reference.

“Honestly Steve, I just want to hang up my spurs. I’m not sure I even believe in the program anymore, after the last couple of runs. The Bighorn Reservation was brutal, not what I’d envisioned a Reservation to be, at all. Most of these weres have done nothing wrong other than being born that way, and the ones that are turned didn’t ask for that, either. I must be getting old or something, but I’m just not feeling the cause like I used to.”

“Starting a family will do that to a person. And I can see the allure of a small town, quiet, peaceful, out of the limelight. I intend to come back for a visit, myself. See what’s in the water.”

“Oh really?” Jensen smiled a little, unsure that this was good news. “I never saw you as a small town guy.”

“Yeah, me neither. But back to my offer. The whole western section of Montana is terribly underserved, marshal-wise. We don’t get a lot of were sightings there, but we do get a few, and when we do it takes us far too long to respond. What I’d like to suggest is that you stay on as a part time hunter. You work your regular day job, keep your sheriff’s badge, hell you can keep the Rover, but on the odd occasion we catch a job in your area, you take it. It would keep you on quarter pay with full hunter benefits towards a pension. That gives us a man in the know in the area and a reason to keep my eye on you. And realistically, I don’t expect you’d get more than one or two calls a year.”

Williams leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “What would you say to that?”

Jensen’s mind whirled. Much as he didn’t like hunting his own kind, this would keep him in the game, and his computer access up to date. If he could stomach the odd call, he had to believe the benefits to the community would outweigh the negatives. Sighing, he rubbed his chin. It was a good offer, more than fair. But the biggest part of him wanted a clean break, away from the stink of silver and the lingering taint of the corrupt hunters he’d met.

“I don’t know what to say. Honestly, I thought this would be just a routine early retirement.” Jensen thought about the USB chip he had hidden away and the mission he needed to complete.

“Ha,” Williams let out a barking laugh, “You think I’d let the best hunter in this jurisdiction, maybe even in the whole damn country, go so easy?” Williams smiled and, rising, he walked around the old oak desk, half cheeking it on the desktop beside Jensen’s chair. He crossed his arms, his expression serious, “I know you’ve been through a lot, seen a lot, but it’s easier to fight injustice from the inside than outside. Please think about it. The director wants to have supper with you and a few colleagues tomorrow night, if you’re free. I think you’d need to have made your mind up by then.”

Jensen's mouth was suddenly bone dry. He rose to stand and nodded, shaking Williams' hand. “I will, Cap. I’ll think on it really hard. It’s kind of an adjustment. I’ll just go clean up my desk, for now. One way or another, I’m still moving.”

Williams put his reading glasses back on and watched over the rims as Jensen left.

When he reached his cubicle, Jensen literally sagged into his chair. He hadn’t expected this to be as hard as it was and, honestly, Williams made a compelling offer.

 

Comments always appreciated ^^


	11. The Forge — Buried Secrets

 

[ ](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/94567.html)

 

 

For the first few hours back at his desk, Jensen wasn’t able to get much of anything done. News of his return spread like wildfire through the building and he was inundated with a flurry of visitors popping into his cubicle to say hello, and maybe goodbye. After the initial glut of visitors settled down, he started in on the mound of unanswered online correspondence. He was in the middle of replying to what seemed like his hundredth email when a sultry voice floated into his space. “So I hear you’re leaving me.”

Jensen spun around in his chair, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Moving to the country…that’s a big change I somehow can’t see. Jensen the country mouse. Hmmm… But, I also hear there is a mystery man to blame for it all. What? I wasn’t man enough for you?” Alaina Huffman, the Division’s senior weapons officer, thrust out her ample breasts and pouted dramatically. The curvy redhead leaned against the opening to his cubicle and flipped a strand of her vivid red hair back over her shoulder, her short, open black jacket, black slacks and white collared blouse hugged her curves. “Whatever! I’ll just have to find myself a new pretty boy with a big gun.” She grinned impishly and strolled into his cubicle, perched herself on Jensen’s desk and crossed her legs, bright red, five inch heels on full display. Jensen laughed, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head at his long time friend.

Here was yet another one of the great people he’d miss if he left the bureau permanently. Alaina and he had had a friends with benefits arrangement for years now, and though neither had wanted to get more serious with their physical relationship, they were best friends, and respected each other deeply. It had perfectly suited Jensen’s nomadic lifestyle, gone for months at a time, and only coming back to the bureau for a few weeks a year. And when he was back, Alaina had always been there.

“Yeah, there’s a guy.” Jensen couldn’t wipe the soft expression off his face at the thought of Jared. “A really important one, as it turns out. He’s it for me Al, what can I say? I’m off the market.” Jensen shook his head with mock sadness, “But we’ll always have ‘the Beast’.” The Beast was Houston’s anti-terrorist, SWAT team tactical vehicle and, under the auspices of receiving a confidential communiqué message while on a city wide hunt for two weres, Jensen and Alaina had ordered ‘the Beast’ emptied. They had made out right there, Alaina’s butt imprinted with the keypad from the communications panel in the process. Her nickname for a time had gone from Al to Alphabet, in honor of the memorable impression the Beast had made on her.

“Oh you do know how to sweet talk a girl, ” Alaina smirked. "Or a guy. Who will I have to beat in the annual sharp shooter competition, then?” Jensen shrugged, a pensive smile on his face.

Part of Alaina’s job at the Division was to keep all the hunters equipped with the latest gear, and she was, bar none, one of the best shots they had. She had held the Division championship for five years straight, and had only been unseated twice over the years, both of those times by Jensen.

“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Hopping up off his desk she tapped her hand on the cubicle wall on her way out. “We'll just have to be on our best behavior for a change.”

Jensen grinned, “Oh, you coming to Omundson’s dinner, too?”

“Yeah, they’ll let almost anyone go to a retirement party these days.”

“Maybe retirement…” Jensen heard the words slip from his lips before he could even think of biting them back.

“Really? Do tell.” Alaina recrossed her arms, cocking one scarlet eyebrow at him in return. “You reconsidering? Gonna stay with me, I mean, with us?”

Jensen nodded and looked out the window, torn. Wolf whined, not understanding the idea of leaving pack behind. Jensen wasn’t sure he did either, the division was his pack almost as much, or more than, the Ridge. He hadn’t thought this would be so hard, or Williams' offer so tempting. “Maybe,” he heard himself say softly.

He turned around and Alaina was eyeing his Taurus critically. “You realize you’re in violation of the new Bureau policy?” She purred, a mischievous look in her eye.

“What?” Jensen shook his head. “What policy?”

“Don’t you keep up on the weekly bulletins?” She shook her head teasingly before her expression grew serious, “Sad story actually, happened while you were gone. A hunter went berserk last year on the seventh floor, killed twelve people before they shot him down. They’d been talking about a lockdown policy ever since. When Omundson’s took over as full director he finally pulled the trigger and now there’s two gun lockers on each floor. At first Omundson was talking about confiscating all guns at the door, but that made us vulnerable to a hit as well, so this was the compromise we came up with. You should have been issued a key.”

Jensen pawed through the few papers that had been left on his desk. “Nada.” He shrugged spreading his hands in surrender. “Who was it?”

“Guy named Mitch Pileggi, I guess tests afterward showed that he’d gotten turned at some point. Went nuts on his whole team. I think that’s another reason why they rushed to install the new Darth Vader pods downstairs. I’m sure you’re now intimately familiar with them.” Alaina shuddered delicately.

Jensen grimaced remembering his introduction to the Pods, and then became more thoughtful, “Wow, I knew Pileggi. I always thought he was a good guy…”

“Meh, you never know when someone’s gonna go wild, right?” Alaina lips pressed together in a moue of distaste, then straightened, “Hey, we can go take care of it now if you like, or I might have to issue you a citation, or worse, frisk you and commandeer your gun … Just like old times.” She waggled her eyebrows, licking her wide red lips suggestively before her expression grew sober. “Seriously, you do need to lock it up while you’re here in the building. You can pick it up anytime you’re scheduled to go offsite.”

Jensen’s hand slid down protectively over his piece. “Um okay…” He nodded toward his computer, “I was in the middle of this email. I’ll just finish up and go get a locker and key issued, Secure stores, right?”

“Alright, but I’ll be watching you,” Alaina winked and slipped away. Jensen rose and watched her saunter down the hallway. She was teasing, but there was a serious threat beneath her banter, he’d have to do this right away. He gazed around his section. It was close to lunch and a lot of the cubicles next to him were already empty. Sitting down, he turned toward the windows, away from the surveillance camera in the opposite corner. He quickly pulled the Taurus out of its holster and flicked open the barrel. Willing his fingernails to grow he used his claws to nudge the black, bullet shaped USB cartridge out of the gun’s cylinder. Hissing under his breath in irritation he quickly plucked the silver coloured plastic slug shaped flash drive out and pocketed it quickly. Easing the barrel closed, he holstered his weapon and swiveled around.

Opening his desk drawer, he rooted around a moment, casually dropping the USB thumb drive he’d palmed into the mishmash of office supplies he had in his desk. Unobtrusively, he tucked the black USB into a box of paper clips in his drawer, and picked up a random pencil and a sticky note pad. Closing the drawer, he made himself a note to call Alaina later and stuck it on the bottom of his monitor, then returned to complete his email. He’d have to make a run at the computer later in the day when he wouldn’t be constantly disturbed.

He was about to leave for secure stores when Gil, a researcher Jensen had worked with for years, popped by his cubicle. He tried to explain to Gil that Alaina was on his tail over gun lock up, but he waved off Jensen’s concerns.

“Don’t worry about Al, I’m sure she’ll be fine with you doing it after lunch. Come on, we haven’t seen you in months.” Good-naturedly, Jensen allowed himself to be talked into joining him and a small group in the cafeteria for lunch. He locked his Taurus in his bottom drawer for now, as he'd been doing for years.

Talking to Gil gave Jensen an idea. Rather than try to upload the trap door code from his own desktop, ‘the tombs,’ as the library in the first five basement levels were known, might be a better, more discreet location. The research halls were more secluded and private than his cubicle, and best of all, no one would be looking for him there.

After lunch, promising to visit Gil later and catch up, Jensen unlocked his Taurus from its drawer and slid it into his holster. He set off for secure stores to apply for a locker and key.

Secure Stores turned out to be a dark windowless room in the middle of the building on the second level. Stepping inside, he saw a long stainless steel counter running the length of the room. It was manned by a pale, ineffectual looking character. A handy desk name plate supplied the name Gabriel Tigerman to the timid clerk. Jensen hoped this would go smoothly.

“How ya doin’, partner? Jensen Ackles, Marshal.” Jensen smiled smoothly. “I’ve been out of the loop for the last couple of months, but Alaina tells me I need to apply for a secure lock for my Taurus. Seems a bit of a waste, as I’ll be moving back out west full time after this week, but here I am. I don’t want to get on Alaina’s wrong side, know what I’m sayin’?” Jensen pulled a face and squinted, pretending to look at the name plate for the first time, “…Gabriel. Do you mind if I call you Gabe?” Receiving no reaction whatsoever from Tigerman, Jensen kept his tone light as he drumrolled his hands on top of the counter. “So what do I need to do to get this show on the road? I imagine you want to see my badge?” Jensen was reaching for it even before the words finished leaving his mouth.

Tigerman abruptly sprang to life, raising his hand like a school bus monitor, “No actually.” Gabriel coughed, suddenly uncertain. “I prefer Gabriel, if you don’t mind.” The man lifted a clip board to his chest protectively and Jensen had to resist the urge to smirk. The guy was an honest to God geek, no wonder he was in Secure Stores.

“All righty then, Gabriel, do you need to see my badge?”

“No,” Gabriel repeated in a breathy rush. “No, I need a blood sample.” He pressed a button and Jensen heard a distinctive click as the door he had come in through locked automatically. There was a soft whir and a glass panel rose up from the counter Jensen was leaning against and locked into a metal slot running the length of the room, and Jensen was effectively boxed in. Wolf snarled in reaction to the unexpected confinement.

Jensen looked around, only long practice kept all emotion off his face. “Blood test, huh? And a lock box. Wow, you’re going all hardcore on me, Gabriel.”

Gabriel stepped away from the glass nervously. Jensen could imagine what might happen next if he failed the blood test, knock out gas would presumably spill into the contained room. Even if Jensen wolfed out, he imagined the walls under the tasteful grey wallpaper were solid steel.

“Okay then.” Jensen spread his hands and looked around waiting.

Gabriel clutched the clipboard tighter, sweat beading his brow. “Right.” He husked out and pressed a button behind the counter. On Jensen’s side of the glass, a slot opened on the countertop. “If you could place your index finger there.” Gabriel gestured towards the slot. Inside was a silver surface with a small depression with a tiny hole in the center. A finger tip could rest in the depression while the automated test needle took the sample. “Umm… whenever you’re ready Marshal?”

Smiling calmly, Jensen placed the index finger of his right hand on the depression. He didn’t feel the burn of the silver plate through the skin tech, or the pin prick as it rose up through the device.

When a small light beside the depression finally turned green, he pulled a tissue from a nearby box and, wiping his finger, rolled the pricked blood finger cap into the tissue and stuffed it in his pocket. He made a mental note to buy Oz a big case of champagne when he got back, this was twice now the fake finger tips had saved him from blowing his cover.

There was a small delay while the computer processed the results. Nonchalantly, Jensen turned and leaned his elbows against the counter, looking at the bad generic art on the walls. The faint hiss as the glass panel retracted back into the counter was his first clue he had passed. He turned around to gaze at Tigerman.

With a shaking hand, Tigerman slid a key with the tag on it toward him.

Turning the tag over in his hand, lock box 6969 sounded like a bad joke. Jensen’s eyes narrowed, he wondered if Alaina had something to do with the number choice. “Seriously?”

Tigerman took a hasty step backwards. “Y-yes, everything is in order.”

Jensen’s wolf rubbed up against him anxiously and he realized it was time to leave. Waving the key on his way out Jensen growled. “Later, man.”

Tigerman’s hand raised and hung in the air awkwardly. “Bye.”

Back out in the hallway, sunlight from the windows at the end streamed into the corridor. Both Wolf and Jensen relaxed in its sunny glow, and the illusion of freedom.

Once his weapon was safely stowed, Jensen returned to his desk. His corner cubicle provided a welcome sanctuary, with its magnificent thirty-second story view of Dallas. Wolf rumbled in approval, settling easily, and Jensen bided his time and continued to work away on the backlog of emails. When he was finally up to date, he glanced at the clock. It was just past three, perfect time to visit the tombs.

 

The tombs weren’t used often, a lot of the information was now available online. But some older maps and blueprints of areas, along with research the Bureau had collected over the years about weres, and cultural artifacts they’d confiscated, were all carefully tagged and organized in the climate controlled archive. Jensen had used them frequently. He liked the tactile sensation of the items in his hands, liked to see the maps rolled out full size, not small chunks viewed a little at a time on a monitor. It had been important to him to know everything he could about the area he was going into. Abandoned mines, railways, cave systems, any geographical info on the area where you were hunting—you never knew what might be useful, even crucial, when hunting weres.

Gil was behind the counter when Jensen came through the elevator doors.

“Hey man, long time no see.”

Gil snorted, “Yes, seriously, twice in one day after how many months, be still my heart.” Gil grinned, “What can I do for you, Jensen?”

“I wanted to see some plans and blueprints for the Bighorn Reservation. I’ll be living right near there, and I’d like to know what potential boltholes or weaknesses the Rez might have.”

Gil tapped into his computer. “Yes, we’ve got a pretty substantial collection on the construction of that Rez, it’s one of the oldest in the system. You’ll need gloves if you’re going in there, though. Room B5-6. Here’s your passkey. I’m also emailing you a list of relevant information, if you’d like to check it out.” Gil handed Jensen a set of white gloves and a printout of the exact drawers where the blueprints could be found.

“Happy hunting.” Gill smiled and returned to his research work.

Jensen took the elevator down, blinking as the dark paneled doors slid open to the blindingly bright lights and pale grey walls of sublevel five. Research hall six was only two doors down on the right. The door number was indicative of the region, so Hall six had information not only on The Bighorn Rez, but on Munter’s Gorge, as well. Apart from finding out as much as he could about the Big Horn Rez while he was here, Jensen also wanted to find out what the Bureau knew about the Gorge, and the Iron Ridge Pack. He’d been called in to Munter’s Gorge directly from a previous hunt, so he hadn’t had time to do his usual background research.

The room itself was a sprawling space with sixteen foot ceilings, a luxury for an underground level. Like all the archives, there was a long, wide table that also served as a light table near the front door for looking at larger maps, and examining other items. Behind the table was a row of computers for more online research, and off to the left were row upon row of stacks, some temperature controlled glass cases for the rarer items, and big map drawers for the larger reference.

Following Gil’s research sheet and donning his gloves, Jensen carefully pulled several of the maps out on the big table that dominated the room. He wasn’t able to spot many weaknesses in the Big Horn construction blueprints, but it did provide him with some valuable food for thought.

Alibi taken care of, Jensen turned on one of the research computers located along the back wall and fumbled the USB out of his pocket. He’d never done anything like this before, but Oz said this would be easy. All he had to do was log into the Department of Justice’s system with his marshal override, look up the current shock collar codes, memorize them, and plug in the USB while he was logged in. Osric had set up the virus to upload automatically. It was supposed to erase the log showing his presence on the DOJ site, as well as install a back door. It seemed like a tall order to Jensen, but Oz had been confident. All he had to do after he logged in was click to start up the virus Osric had written. After that, it would run on its own.

He started to sweat as he logged into the site, drawing a complete blank for a moment when he started to type his password. Obviously the spy game was not his strong suit. Once past the startup screen, he scrolled through to find the right directory and subsection, re-inputting his password at various secure checkpoints until he finally drilled his way all the way down to the shock collar passcode directory.

Although shock collars with explosive devices in them raised things to a whole new level, many hunters who ran down their prey in remote areas were already using shock collars to aid in retrieval. Outfitted with an adjustable perimeter, the collars had been considered a minor miracle when first introduced. It meant that deep in the bush, you could electronically tether your prisoner to a one-yard radius at night, and not have to worry about him escaping or murdering you in your sleep. It was brutal but effective, with more chance of the prisoner arriving at the rez alive and in one piece. Jensen had never used them himself, preferring to depend on silver cuffs and rope, but the option had been open to him, and a hunter looking up the lock codes online was not an unusual thing. After confirming his identity for the sixth time, he was finally able to log on to the page.

Currently there were ten sixteen digit codes in use on the most recent generation of shock collars. Jensen did a quick check, and the Big Horn Rez was using those same codes. He sat and stared intently at the screen for a few moments. Marshal training included a lot of practice on increased acuity and memorization. Much as he might have liked to take a quick snapshot of the screen, or email himself a list, he knew the old fashioned way of having it locked in his head was the safest. Fortunately, with an almost eidetic memory, Jensen excelled at these memorization skills. It had come in handy many times in his career.

Codes committed to memory, Jensen inserted the USB key into the terminal. A prompt screen came up and Jensen clicked ‘Start.’ A loading bar appeared and started to chug. It seemed to take a long time to get to one percent and Jensen realized he’d drive himself insane if he sat here watching it. Turning the screen toward the back of the room, he went to examine some of the other the maps on Gil's related information list that he’d pulled.

He started with the Big Horn Rez survey maps, and noticed several official tunnels from the uranium operation that came precariously close to the Rez perimeter. That must be the point from where the weres had dug their tunnels. He also noticed several discontinued lines that were farther away from the border, but might be a safer dig site. He made a mental note to discuss it further with Jeff on his return. He spent more than an hour poring over the maps, the progress bar filling slowly. At seventy six percent, Jensen decided to see what they had on Munter’s Gorge. He pulled several mining and topical maps of the Gorge and was interested to find that some of the old mining shafts and caves that he’d learned about from Jim and Jeff weren’t noted on the map, including the cave where Jared had turned him. Knowing what locations the Division wasn't aware of could prove quite useful if, say, they were to hide a large quantity of people from sight for a while. Sliding the Munter’s Gorge maps away, he noticed the progress bar was still only at eighty three percent. Jensen whistled, glad he’d found a reasonably secluded location to do this. Upload time, just another small detail he hadn’t thought to ask Osric about.

Glancing at the stacks, he wondered if there was any literature or interesting artifacts from the Iron Ridge Pack. When he finally located the correct series of shelves, he was deep into the stacks. He ran his finger along the spines of the books, reading the occasional quirky title out loud. “ _Lycanthropy and the effects of the solar eclipse in a desert landscape_. _Phases of the moon, a dialogue with the moon goddess_ , _Duality of life, trials of a were in northern Montana_ , _The Great War_.” Jensen smiled a little sadly, so these were the stories of his adopted people, tucked away, gathering dust in the archives. At least, if a true peace was ever achieved, the books had been preserved. Glancing at his watch, he realized he’d been trolling the bookshelf aisles for almost an hour. The virus must be finished uploading by now. He was about to return to the main desk when a slim volume caught his eye. It was old, with a hand-bound leather binding and gold lettering on the spine.

Jensen crouched down to look more closely and tried to read the flowing script on the spine. Giving up on that, he pulled the book, which was actually more of a journal, off the shelf. It was dusty and fragile, and Jensen had to wipe his gloved hand over the cover to see the title, hand written on the front more clearly. He almost dropped the book as he read the title out loud.

“ _The journal of Joxum Bloodbourne_.”

Jensen’s eyes went wide. This could only be _the_ Joxum Bloodbourne. The Joxum that Jared had spoken about, the omega who had mated and turned a human, Tane, who became his Alpha and the Alpha of their pack. Jensen opened the leather cover and turned the pages. The paper was old and yellowed, brittle in Jensen’s hands; page after page containing neat, spidery, copperplate script with carefully annotated dates and footnotes, from over a hundred years ago.

There were hundreds of entries with sketches and maps. Curious, Jensen skipped to the last entry. The writing was less sure there, erratic, as though the author was distracted or infirm. In the shadowy stacks, Jensen had to squint to make out the words.

_…my time is short. My heat is upon me and I will not suffer through one day of it alone aching for my alpha who will never come; not now, not after so many years of having my loving man in my arms. It would be a hollow, shabby thing, unworthy of his memory. So I will take this into my own hands. I will embrace the Goddess this night bathed in her glorious radiance. I can only pray she finds me worthy and takes me in her loving arms so that I may see my beloved again._

_What future our pack though, without his leadership? The ink is still wet on the treaty he signed with three of the neighboring packs, but there is some treachery upon us. I can only hope our new alpha, our son, Jaden, is able to lead our people through it. He is a strong boy, a good boy. So much like his father that sometimes it hurts to look upon his face now with his wild hair and green eyes so like Tane’s. I can only trust that he is enough like his father to find his way, as we did so many years ago._

_My life was complete the day I first met him in the woods, and claimed him for my mate. He did so much for our people, his very last measure of devotion to the pack, to me, to our family. I miss him, so much my heart is fair to bursting with sadness._

_I will see you again my love, in the endless forests of grey woods, and we will howl together under moon once more._

 

Jensen swallowed, cold dread creeping over him as he read Joxum’s last words. All he could think about was Jared and his fate if something were to happen to him, how brave Joxum was, going out by his own hand rather than withering away, suffering, in longing for his mate.

He closed the book reverentially. This was his history, Jared’s, his, Morgan, Kim, Dylan, all the brave weres he had met. Without Joxum and Tane’s story, Jensen wouldn’t even be here right now. With cautious determination, Jensen checked the book for tags or other tracking devices. Finding nothing on the delicate vellum, he slid the journal into the inside pocket of his jacket. This belonged with the Iron Ridge Pack, where Joxum’s story could be handed down to future generations.

When he returned to the main study area, unbelievably the download still wasn’t complete yet, at just ninety-seven percent. With a weary sigh, Jensen settled into a chair in front of the computer to wait for the program to finish. As he sat down, he heard the door open and Gil poked his head into the room.

“Hey, how’s it going? You’ve been down here for ages, I know what you’re like once you get deep into it. Thought you’d like to know it’s well past five, and I just put a fresh pot of coffee on.”

“Ha, you know I love your coffee.” Jensen grinned, Gil made the best coffee that he'd ever tasted, next to Jared's, and his own. His gaze darted to the progress screen: ninety-eight percent. “I’m doing great actually. And you’re right, I didn’t realize the time,” Jensen stood and stretched, his spine cracked audibly and he twisted and bent to work the kinks out as he walked in front of the computer station. “Guess I really was sitting there a lot longer than I thought. I think that’s enough research for one day. I’ll start packing up and be up in about five, ten minutes.”

“Oh, do you need help putting anything away?” Gil stepped fully into the room and glanced over at the light table with its scattered mound of maps

“Nah, It won’t take any time at all, I know where it all goes. And I’d love to take you up on that coffee.”

“I guess by now everyone’s heard you were thinking about retiring. Are you really going to go through with it?” Gil strolled over to the large table, running his fingers thoughtfully over the corners of the maps laid out on its surface.

“Well, I was pretty sure when I arrived. But then, Williams made me an offer today. Part time, on call marshal for the Montana area. It’s pretty tempting. I could stay in touch with all of you, but live in Montana. I couldn’t see myself going back to the nomadic marshal life with Jared in the picture, now. But Williams' offer would be like having my cake and eating it too.”

Gil looked at him solemnly. “You deserve to be happy, Jensen. Of all the men I’ve known over the years, you’ve given more to this job than anyone else. If you’ve managed to find happiness in the middle of all that, grab it with both hands and don’t let go.”

“That was kind of my thinking," Jensen nodded. "Besides, he makes great coffee. Where else am I going to find someone who can put up with me and make good coffee? You’re already taken.” Jensen grinned, “Kristin would never forgive me if I tried to poach you.”

“Well that's true. I’m happy for you, Jen.” Gil walked toward him, arms outstretched and Jensen moved to meet him halfway, hugging his long time friend. “Hey, you go on, you’ve had a long day too. Like I said give me five minutes and I’ll be up, and we can find somewhere more comfortable to talk.”

Clapping Jensen on the shoulder, Gil smiled. “Sounds good.” He said as he headed out the door.

Jensen carefully filed all the maps he’d been looking at and then returned to the computer. A blue notification read ‘Upload Complete’. Blowing out a relieved breath, he made a promise to punch Osric in the face for not warning him about how long this would take. He turned off the notification and logged off, backtracking his way out of the system.

Pulling the USB chip out of the computer, he went into the men’s washroom and closed and locked the door behind him. He laid out several sheets of paper towel on the floor and set the thumb drive in the center. Carefully crushing the drive under his heel, he collected the heavier, silver colored, plastic pieces of the shattered shell and threw them in the trash. The pulverized guts of chip he poured into some wadded toilet tissue and tossed them into the toilet. He added the two finger cups and tissue he’d stuffed into his pocket earlier, then flushed all of it. The remaining paper towels he wadded up and threw in the trash.

Flushing the toilet a second time, the weight of what he had just done started to sink in. It sent a shiver through his whole body. Sitting heavily on the toilet lid, he weakly latched onto the paper dispenser on the wall to steady himself, and swallowed hard again and again as saliva filled his mouth.

This was it. He had really done this. He had just hacked the bureau’s computers and stolen codes. He had betrayed everything he had worked toward for the last fifteen years, his friends, his colleagues, the division…His breath was whistling in and out of his chest, gooseflesh rising, and he had to make a deliberate attempt to calm himself. Wolf licked at his face in support. His original reasons for doing this were still sound. There was no reason to panic…yet.

No one knew anything.

If Osric’s code hadn’t worked, he was sure a whole battalion of hunters would already be raining down on his head with stun guns and silver nets to drag him away. He placed his hand over his thundering heart, and instead of its rabbit beat, his fingers found and traced the outline of Joxum’s journal nestled in his breast pocket. Somehow Joxum’s presence, their story, calmed him more than he would have expected.

His wolf continued to rub up against him in sympathy. He was sure wolf didn’t understand the intricate details of what Jensen had just done, his divided loyalties or doubts, but he understood danger to the pack well enough. Jensen closed his eyes and let his wolf’s soft fur caress his sensitive skin, comfort him. Heart rate finally slowing to normal, Jensen blew out a shaky breath and staggered to his feet. Gil must be wondering where he was.

Jensen filed the remaining maps away, turned off the lights, and headed out to meet Gil. A coffee right about now, and a chat with a good friend about his mate was exactly what he needed to remind him of all the good things he had to look forward to.

 

As he lay in bed that night, Jensen was amazed at how easily everything was coming together.

He had gotten home early enough to start some packing, but then Rich dropped by, offering to buy anything in his place Jensen didn’t want.

“What the hell, I’ll rent it to some young up and coming Hunter and make a bundle.” Rich smirked as he gazed around the apartment. “Besides, you bought some comfy stuff. I might even steal that sofa for myself.”

“Well you slept on it often enough! You’d know.” Jensen took another slug of his beer and hefted a third slice of pizza. “Well, if it’s okay with you,that’s great. All I want is my personal stuff, photos and my grandparents' keepsakes, and the chair and ottoman; the rest is yours. Jared has far better taste than I do, anyway. Nothing much else would even fit into our new place.”

Jensen leaned back in his chair surveying the room. There was a sage green afghan his grandmother had knit before she passed that he particularly wanted to see Jared cuddled up in on their own sofa back home. She had died before Jensen had even known he was gay, but he thought his grandmother would have approved of Jared. The sense of family he felt by carrying on the few traditions and mementos he had managed to hang onto over the years sent warm shivers down his spine.

“Ha, sounds good, man. So do you think you’ll ever be back this way? Or am I going to have to go visit you in Montana? I hear it’s fucking cold out there.”

Jensen smiled and took another sip of his beer. “It’s beautiful there, Rich. The winters are icy and cold, and the spring is so vibrant and full of life, it makes your lungs hurt, the air is so fresh and clean. And, I have horses now, did I tell you? Four of ‘em. I always loved the desert, but Montana is something else.” Jensen finished off his beer and glanced at his watch. It was well past eleven, and he needed to call Jared. “You’re welcome any time, but I’ll probably be back in town every once in a while, maybe I'll want to reserve a spot on that sofa you’re stealing. I think I’m going to take Williams up on his offer.”

“Can’t see you not being a marshal," Rich nodded. “It’s in your blood, Jen.”

Richard’s words echoed in Jensen’s ears as he picked up the phone to call his mate.

“Jensen, how are things going?” Jared’s voice sounded breathy, like he’d done a mad dash for the phone.

“Were you running?” Jensen smiled fondly into the receiver.

“Yeah, was just out checking on the horses. I knew damn well you’d call as soon as I stepped out the door. But you’re doing okay?”

Jensen could hear the worry in Jared’s voice. “Yeah, it’s good. Had a chance to meet up with a lot of old friends. And it looks like things might wind up faster here than I thought, Rich has agreed to buy all my furniture, so I don’t have to bother running around town dropping off packages at the Goodwill. I’ll only have to pack up the few things I’m keeping and be on my way home, probably by Thursday. There’s just one thing…”

“What’s that?” Fear crept into Jared’s voice. They’d set up several keywords ahead of time so they wouldn’t say too much over the phone. ‘Old friends’ meant everything was going well, ‘new friends’ meant he was under suspicion, ‘don’t have to bother dropping off packages’ meant he had delivered the virus package. With his long absence, Jensen wasn’t sure if his line was being monitored, or whether the house was bugged, so he was taking no chances.

“Nothing bad, it’s just that Williams has asked me to stay on as the on call marshal for Montana. It would probably only mean one or two runs a year. I can keep my marshal status and my badge and still work for the Sheriff’s Department at Munter’s Gorge. What do you think?”

There was a pause before Jared spoke. When he did his voice was low and careful. “Is it something you want, Jen? If it is, I’m behind you one hundred percent. I can see the pros and cons. I know how much being a marshal means to you.”

Jensen could hear the sincerity in Jared’s voice. Staying a marshal might be hard when the hunts came up, but Jensen could deal with that on a case by case basis. This would keep his access current, and if Oz ever needed anything else, Jensen could still return to the Bureau.

“I think I’m going to do it then, if it’s okay with you?”

He could almost see Jared’s head nodding as he spoke, “Do what you think is right, love.”

“So, what else is going on there?” Jensen grinned and leaned back into his pillow.

“Well, Tyler thinks we need more help at the Wired Bean, says he’s too overworked. I’ve been interviewing a few kids from the local high school but nobody stands out yet. I had one kid in the advanced art program even tell me I’m doing my menu board all wrong.” Jared snorted softly. “Imagine. Then he showed me some of his work. I wouldn’t let this kid paint an outhouse, let alone touch my board. _My board_ Jen, can you imagine it?”

Jensen chuckled at Jared’s fierce protectiveness of his store’s signature chalk board. He experienced a swell of longing, wishing he was back in the Gorge, lying in bed with his mate in his arms as he told him about his day. Brushing an escaped tear aside he coughed to hide the crack in his voice. “The nerve. No kid gets between my mate and his board. What else…?”

 

The trip through the security pods was no less harrowing the next day. He was able to keep the flashbacks of Winters and Foldbrook at bay, though. This time the pod drew blood from his right hand. Jensen was thankful he had decided to continue his better safe than sorry practices and had worn two blood cups. When the machine finally disgorged him from its chill embrace, he and his wolf could hardly wait to get back home. Locking his Taurus up in his new locker he decided to swing by the Steve’s office first thing, and ask Misha to book him some time with the Captain.

“You’ve made up your mind, then.” Misha regarded him carefully from under a quirked brow.

“I certainly have.” Jensen grinned, giving away nothing. “How soon can I get in to see him?”

“I’d already taken the liberty of booking you in yesterday. You're meeting with him is at ten o’clock.”

“Ha! You know me too well, Misha.”

“Yes, well, I think you’re making the right decision. It’s a great way to keep you in the family. He also wants to talk to you about the Big Horn Rez.”

“Fair enough.”

 

Williams looked at Jensen over his steepled his fingers, eyes glittering enigmatically. “So, Misha says you’ve come to a decision. Care to fill me in?”

Jensen made a wry face as he ran his hand along the back of his neck, he leaned back in his chair, squirming a little. For extra effect, he chewed on his lower lip, giving all the indications of preparing himself to turn Williams down. It wasn’t too often he got the upper hand on the old coot, he wanted to savor the moment as long as he could. But enough was enough, so leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, he let out a huff of breath and then said, “I want to take you up on your offer.”

“Ha!” Williams clapped his hands together. “Damn straight, you do. You had me going there for a minute, you know you did. But you gotta know when you got a good thing going.” A relieved smile suffused his face.

 

After ironing out a few details on Jensen’s new ‘on call’ marshal status, Williams stared at him in earnest, tapping his pen nervously on the desk before he said, “So tell me about the Rez?”

This time it was no act when Jensen allowed his head to sink in despair, unsure just how truthful he should be with his boss and friend. Finally coming to a decision, he looked Williams straight in the eye and said, “It’s part of the reason I seriously considered retiring full time. It’s a hellhole, and I’m ashamed to be a hunter when I see what is happening there. Corrupt hunters, forced prostitution, uranium sickness, and Sheppard is dirty as sin. It’s ugly, Steve, not what I signed on for, at all.”

Williams dropped the pencil he had been fiddling with and leaned back in his seat, hands tightly gripping the arms of his chair.

“I wanted to believe otherwise, but that’s sort of what I suspected. Now, whatever the hell you do, don’t breathe a word of what you think to Omundson tonight. He and Sheppard are close friends. I have my suspicions that it’s more than just Sheppard that’s dirty, I just don’t have the proof…yet. Tell me what you saw.”

“So, Misha provided you with all the details about diner tonight?” Steve walked Jensen to the door.

Jensen nodded. “I’ll be there with bells on, seven o’clock sharp.”

Just be on your best behavior,” Steve uttered darkly, then on a brighter note asked, “So, when do you think you’ll be heading home?”

Jensen pursed his lips, “I was thinking maybe Friday morning. I want to take tomorrow afternoon off to finish packing, then I wanted to invite some friends over Thursday night for a small get-together, and yes, you are invited. Otherwise I think I’ve tied up pretty much everything else I need to here, so I’d like to head back home.”

“Yes, I understand. You want to get back home to that gentleman friend of yours. Oh, the passions of youth.” Williams rolled his eyes dramatically as he clapped Jensen on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later, then.”

 

: : :

Comments always appreciated ^^


	12. The Forge — The Party

 

 

 

From the shadows of the bar, Jensen watched Omundson circulate around the room before dinner. Schmoozing and glad-handing with anyone of importance, and ignoring the rest of the guests, the director was a slippery son of a bitch. The hackles on the back of Wolf’s neck had risen and, struggling to tamp down his own snarl of disapproval, Jensen turned to the bartender and ordered another whiskey. He had been a good guest of honor, done the rounds, flirted with Alaina, chatted a bit with Steve and Gil. Now he was hiding and taking refuge at the bar, in need of a break from the constant attention. The Bureau crowd mingled and gossiped in one of two large private rooms booked for the evening in a swanky hotel in downtown Dallas. He had just taken a slow sip and was setting his drink down when someone clapped him on the back, shoving him forward into the bar.

“Ackles, good to see you son.”

If Jensen’s were senses hadn’t warned him of Omundson’s approach, he would have been taken by surprise, and possibly spilled his drink. As it was, he smoothly canted his hand to adjust for the deliberate jostle and rested his wrist on the bar top, drink down, unspilled. Turning on the bar stool, he smiled coolly. “Director.” Without missing a beat, Jensen smoothly raised his drink to toast the man. There was a fleeting glint in the director’s eye before Omundson lifted his own wine glass and clinked it with Jensen's in salute.

“So, Williams tells me you’re staying on with us.” Omundson had the smooth, well rounded baritone of a television evangelist, his voice as bold as it was falsely earnest. “Good job, good job. We’re definitely underserviced in the Montana area, even though we have a reservation only a couple hundred miles away. It will be good to know the services of a storied marshal such as yourself will be available to us. You were gone so long, we were starting to worry you’d gone to work for the other side, or something.” Omundson showed his teeth, but the grin didn't reach his eyes, “So, other than bagging the odd were for the Bureau, what other plans do you have?”

Jensen took another leisurely sip of his drink before he answered. Omundson’s broad smile had started to rictus with static and irritation by the time he spoke. “Well I have a job, Deputy Sheriff at Munter’s Gorge, and I’ve bought a house, a small farm, actually. After so many years on the road, I think it’s finally time to start setting down roots, and the Gorge kind of captivated me.”

“Excellent. Well I just wanted to come and talk to you in private, and let you know how pleased I am we’re keeping you in the family.” Omundson extended his hand and Jensen was forced to set down his drink to shake it. Omundson’s grip was overly tight, asserting physical dominance over Jensen. Jensen pushed down his wolf’s response to squeeze back in turn, and kept his shake firm and friendly. He felt something sharp dig into his hand and he blinked and looked down at his palm. It was bleeding.

“Oh sorry, must have been my ring.” Omundson, twisted a large silver and turquoise handcrafted ring on his index finger so the jagged texture faced out instead of in. “My bad. Are you okay?”

Jensen sucked on the finger, “Oh, it couldn’t be that bad. I’ll just go wash.”

“Hmm. You do that son. And sorry about that.”

Jensen glanced over his shoulder as he left for the washroom and Omundson was leaning back on a bar stool, his elbows on the bar, a calculating look of on his face. He toasted Jensen as he stepped away, and somehow it felt like Omundson had just had the last laugh.

Locking the door behind him in the private bathroom, he ran water over the wound. The jagged scratch was already healed, it was simply a matter of washing the blood away. The only problem was that upon closer inspection the skin tech on that hand was obviously torn. It had done its duty though, and saved him from an inadvertent reaction to the silver in Omundson’s ring. Jensen's gaze narrowed as he first tried to smooth the edges, but once the seal was broken, he could already see the biodegradable skin breaking down. He hadn’t thought to bring an extra, had never anticipated tearing. Chewing on his lip in indecision, he wondered if he could hide the distorted area, but he realized the degrading material could prove even more noticeable at dinner. With a sigh, he tugged at the ragged edges and peeled the protective covering from his hand.

Yeah, like that would go unnoticed by Omundson. Swearing softly, he flushed the shreds of skin tech, and pasted a pleasant expression on his face when he returned to the gathering.

Williams rushed toward him and grabbed his arm. “There you are. The dinner is starting and our guest of honor is nowhere to be seen. Where were you?” Steven hissed.

“Oh, Omundson scratched me with his ring. I just had to wash the blood off.”

“His ring? What the hell?”

“Weird, right? I’m fine, it was just a scratch. I just didn’t want to get blood on my clean white shirt. Did you notice I even wore a suit?”

“Yes I did, and it was nice you left the Stetson at home, for once. The sacrifices you make…” Williams snorted.

“I know!” Jensen beamed, “Well, lets not keep the people waiting. Lead on, Macduff.”

Williams guided him to a large private room directly across from the bar. The double doors were swung wide and the twenty or so guests were already taking their seats. Williams steered Jensen to one end of the table. Omundson was already sitting at the end, still sipping his wine. Williams took the seat on his right, gesturing for Jensen to take the chair next to him. “Now remember,” Williams whispered, “behave!”

Before he could take his seat, Alaina sidled in beside him and squeezed his elbow. “It’s all right lover, you’re not alone. I got your back.”

Jensen smiled gratefully, “’Preciate it.”

Alaina waggled her eyebrows at him, “So are you going to help me take my seat?”

Jensen frowned and glanced at the chair to his right, “Where are you going to take it?”

Alaina made a disgruntled sound and slapped him on the arm as she pulled her own seat out and with an exaggerated flounce sat down, “Sir,” she said, ”you are no gentleman!”

Jensen sniffed, “And, you, Miss, are no lady.” Grinning, he picked up his napkin, and turned to her, “Hey, you coming to help me pack tomorrow night? I’ll buy the beer and pizza.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She said, pertly unfolding her own napkin on her lap.

 

Once everyone was seated, Omundson stood, tapping his glass with his fork.

“I just want to thank everyone for coming tonight. In particular, our guest of honor, Marshal Jensen Ackles.” Omundson started to applaud and the rest of the table joined in. “When we set this up, Williams and I weren’t sure if it was for a retirement party, or if Jensen would take us up on our offer. Fortunately, as most of you know by now, Jensen has decided to stay in the family, and will be our marshal on call for the Montana territory.”

The room erupted in cheers and applause, and Jensen could feel the blush rising on his cheeks and neck. He nodded politely. Omundson paused a moment as waiters filled all of the guests' glasses with champagne.

In the interlude, Williams leaned over and whispered, “See, that didn’t kill you.”

“Near enough.” Jensen had a death grip on his white napkin when Omundson began to speak again.

“Well, Marshal, I just want to say, I hope we can look forward to many more years of your dedication and service to the Division. Cheers!” Omundson raised his glass and to a chorus of cheers and whistles, Jensen took a sip of the champagne.

“Anything you’d like to add, Marshal?”

Jensen nodded, and stood. “Thank you, Director. I’ll make this brief. Just let me take this time to say, I’ve been so proud to serve with you all. Being able to continue to work with you means the world to me. I can keep wearing this badge that I love.” Jensen tapped one fingertip on the marshal’s badge hanging from his belt, “And continue doing the work that I believe in. It means a lot. Thank you.” Jensen nodded at the director and squeezed Williams shoulder beside him.

When Jensen took his seat again, Omundson waved at the wait staff and servers started to pour into the room and began filling people’s plates.

As waiters added courses of beef or chicken and fresh asparagus or potatoes to their plates, Jensen gazed down at his cutlery. It didn’t look like it would be silver plate. Taking a deep breath, he waited until Omundson and Williams were talking to one of Ops managers on the other side of the table, deep in conversation, and Alaina was equally engaged with the person on her right, before he reached for his knife.

The silver burned almost immediately, hot and sharp. Jensen dropped the blade on the floor discreetly as his fingers burned. “Whoops,” he said softly. Pushing back his chair he used his cloth napkin to reach down and collect the blade. He actually had no idea what he was going to do next, maybe ask the wait staff for a replacement and hope for the best. When he sat up, the knife in the napkin on his lap, he was surprised when Williams leaned in.

“I think you dropped something,” Williams said softly and held out his knife he had hidden in his own napkin, under the table toward Jensen.

Jensen’s eyes went wide as he stared at his long time friend. There was no way he could mistake the significance of Jensen holding his own knife in the napkin.

“Why don’t I take that one, hmmm? Seems to me like someone got them all mixed up, don’t you think?” Williams pulled the silverplate knife out of Jensen’s loose grip and hid it under his napkin. Flopping his own napkin on the table, Williams skillfully, moved Jensen’s knife to his own place setting with the ease of a magician. Speaking more loudly he said in a stage whisper, “Ackles, I don’t know how you’ve lived as long as you have, you’re such a butterfingers. It's a damned good thing you're more on your game when you’re hunting weres.”

Jensen pulled his chair in and put the new knife down beside his plate. A little dazed, he simply played along, “What can I say, I’ve never dropped a gun at the wrong moment. Not yet, anyway.” Jensen glanced down at his hand in his lap, relieved to see the burn had already healed over.

Williams laughed, and Jensen took a sip of his wine. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Williams skillfully palmed his fork into his napkin and again, swapped out Jensen’s with his own. If he hadn’t been watching carefully, he would never have noticed the shift.

Jensen’s mind was going a million miles a minute. This meant Williams knew—So why wasn’t he turning him in?

As Williams' hand withdrew, Jensen seamlessly picked up his new knife and fork and cut a thick piece of steak. He could almost feel when Omundson’s piercing gaze landed on him again, his attention focused on Jensen’s hands. The director was staring openly at Jensen when he popped the first bite of steak and potatoes in his mouth. Omundson’s lips tightened perceptibly and he put his elbows on either side of his plate and folded his hands in front of his face. It didn’t hide from Jensen the fleeting look of disappointment as Jensen handled the flatware without issue. Jensen was careful to take his time chewing before he set the flatware down to take another drink. Omundson glanced hastily away, reverting to the conversation he had been having.

Jensen gazed idly around the table at the other diners, then nodded at Williams. “Good turnout tonight. Lots of familiar faces.”

Williams cut into his own steak and smiled, “Lots of good friends.” And more softly, under his breath, “May that never change, no matter the circumstances.”

Jensen nodded his eyes going wide. So he wasn’t imagining anything, Williams knew he was a were, and hadn’t turned him in. He almost seemed okay with it. Jensen throat tightened. He’d never expected to have that kind of acceptance from anyone at the Division, especially from Williams, but it meant so much. Williams had been like a father to him over the years, or an eccentric uncle. To cover his emotion, Jensen reached shakily for another drink.

“Now, tell me a little bit about that sheriff of yours?” Williams' mouth tipped up at ¬the corners. “He’s got one sexy voice.”

Jensen choked on his sip of wine. “Jim?” He sputtered, rushing to wipe his mouth with his napkin.

Williams leaned back in his chair, and half turned toward Jensen. “Yes, Jim. I’ve been talking to him a lot these last few months. Seems like he and I might have more than a few things in common. Now that you’re going to be in Montana full time, it gives me a good excuse to come out and visit. Meet him in person.”

“Jim…” Jensen repeated dumbly. Maybe the shock of Williams knowing he was a were was making him stupid, but Williams couldn’t seriously be interested in his boss, could he? Jim was a nice guy, and all, but... Jensen shuddered delicately and took another sip.

“Don’t diss what you haven’t tried. Even grandpas have sex once in a while.”

This time Jensen did full on choke on his wine, and Williams had to slap his back when it went up his nose. Alaina rushed to offer help, which Williams waved away. “Boy’ll be just fine. He’s suffering from a little too much information right now.” Williams smirked and Jensen looked at him accusingly with watery eyes.

“You did that deliberately.”

“Maybe, or maybe I just want to know a little more about the man. The way I look at it, son, if you can meet someone special in this Munter’s Gorge, who says I won’t strike it lucky? So spill…”

Wiping his face off again, Jensen took a fortifying gulp of his near empty glass. His chest felt tight and there was moisture in the corners of his eyes at the word ‘son’ that slipped so easily off Williams tongue. He looked down at his plate and swallowed, getting himself under control. When he looked back at Williams he could see the compassion and understanding in the man’s eyes. So, pushing back his tears, he concentrated on Beaver and tried to think of anything he might know about Jim that would be interesting. He started to chuckle, “Well, he fishes….”

 

Wednesday was a blur: Jensen spent the morning at work, making the rounds, chatting with folks he hadn’t seen in ages and letting them know what was up with him. He left for home around noon, dropped by the liquor store on the corner to pick up some booze for the packing party, and to grab some boxes. He had even made a good start on the packing, before Alaina, Rich, and Gil all pulled up at his doorstep at almost the same time.

“Hey guys! What did you do, call each other?” Standing on his front step, Jensen grinned, hugging Alaina, and slapping Gil on the back as they came in. Rich shook his head, “There'd better be beer, man, or I’m outa here.”

“Yeah, right,” Jensen grabbed Rich’s forearm and pulled him in for a hug. “Hey, thanks so much for helping me out. And you’ll all be happy to know I don’t think it will actually take that long. Beer’s in the fridge, and it’s cold. And whatever you do, leave the coffeemaker in place. Knowing you guys, I’m gonna need that in the morning!”

He set Rich to packing the few books he wanted to keep, while Alaina and Gil wrapped his grandmother’s china tea service. Jensen never used it himself, not being a tea drinker, but his grandfather said it had come all the way from Ireland, and Jensen couldn’t bear to part with it. He could just imagine Jared trying to drink out of one of the dainty cups, his big hands dwarfing the translucent porcelain. Jensen sniggered and set to wrapping up the door plaque, and a few other mementos and pictures in the living room. His clothes were already packed, and he was leaving the bedding and cutlery for Rich to toss, or include in the rental.

As predicted, it didn’t take long at all to pack the few things he deemed worth keeping. Jensen did a final room by room double check, returning to the living room with a handful of items. Last, he pulled his guitar case out of the hall closet. He opened the case briefly, fingertips running lovingly over its light golden body, his eyes crinkling in fond memory. His grandpa had noted his rising interest in music and had promised him a guitar for his seventeenth birthday, and they had gone together to the music shop to pick out what he wanted.

For Jensen, it was love at first sight when he’d seen it. The tawny color, not too yellow, not too gold, the beautiful inlay around the sound hole, and that, as they say, had been that. It had been his guitar from that moment on. Thinking back, his grandpa hadn’t even commented on the price. Jensen knew enough now to realize this had been an expensive model, but Grandpa had never said a word. Jensen closed the lid and gently leaned it by the door. He'd find a safe place for it in the Rover later, once everything else was loaded.

Everything pretty much wrapped, Jensen started to root around for some takeout menus to choose from to feed the hungry troops, when there was a knock on the door. He was surprised to see Williams on the other side. He’d wanted to talk to his friend and mentor all morning, but the man had been booked solid all day, and this late in the evening the odds were slim to none he’d show up. He’d been sad about it, too. This packing party would have been his last chance to speak in person.

“Captain….” At Williams' scolding look, Jensen licked his lips and rushed to correct himself. “Steve. Good to see you. I tried to drop in and talk to you today, but you were swamped. Come on in. I think you know almost everyone here? This is Rich, my landlord.” Jensen pulled Richard over and the two shook hands, “And you already know Gil and Alaina.”

“Sorry I’m late. Got caught in a late meeting. Hope I missed some of the heavy lifting.” Williams waved at everyone, then his eyes lit up as he spied Jensen’s handful of flyers, and he grinned broadly.

“Ahh! Seems like I arrived at the perfect time. What are we having? And whatever it is, you have beer to go with it?”

Jensen chuckled, “Yes, boss, right this way.”

 

After a satisfying, if sticky, meal of Chinese takeout, Jensen grabbed a garbage bag and everyone tossed their empty cartons in. “So now that I’ve fed you, how about some real work in return? I need to somehow fit my chair in the Rover.”

Bellies full, everyone groaned, and Rich threw his chopsticks at Jensen. “I knew this whole thing was a trap!”

Good naturedly, Gil, Rich, and Jensen carried the Eames chair to the Rover and, after some careful maneuvering, figured out how to stuff it inside. Alaina brought up the rear with the ottoman, while Williams lounged against the front door jamb and sipped his beer.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? This is your idea of helping?”

“Hey, I’m too old for this shit, besides I am helping. This is one less beer to move.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that, right?” Jensen shook his head, smiling.

“You know you love me.” Williams saluted him with his beer.

Chair safely stowed inside the Rover, they carefully loaded the box of Jensen’s grandmother’s china, and the few boxes of books and mementos he was taking, fitting them around the chair, careful to leave a spot for Jensen’s guitar case in the back seat. Jensen closed the back hatch with a sigh of relief, and said, “Okay, that takes care of the worst of it. Thanks guys.”

Gil and Alaina protested that they were ready for more, but he waved them off. “Nah, don’t worry about the rest, it’s just clothing. I’ll fit it around the more breakable stuff in the morning.”

Seeing his opening, Rich piped up, “I could use your help, that is if you don’t mind?” He proceeded to con them into moving Jensen’s sofa down three doors to Rich’s house, another post war bungalow. “I love this thing,” Rich proclaimed, throwing himself onto it full length once it was set down in his living room. He crossed his ankles and looked up at them impishly, “Say, could I talk you guys into helping me carry my old sofa to Jensen’s? Pretty please?”

Amid groans and laughter, the five of them hefted Rich’s antiquated sofa and hauled it to Jensen’s. Gil groaned, complaining, “What have you got in this thing, lead blocks?”

“Damn man, this beast is heavy.” Williams grunted, having finally weakened and pitched in to help.

“You picked the wrong time to be useful, boss.” Jensen smirked.

When they finally deposited Rich’s leaden sofa in Jensen’s living room, everyone collapsed in exhaustion. Jensen dutifully doled out a new round of beers amid calls for him to ‘play’.

“Come on Jen, this might be the last time we get to hear you sing.” Alaina carried Jensen’s guitar case over to him, where he sat on an upturned milk crate, the sofa and one lone chair the only furniture left in the room. Alaina plunked herself down on the floor in front of the sofa, crossed her legs Indian style, and leaned back, watching him with a wide smile on her face. “How about that lovely lullaby you sing so well, ‘ _Wild Mountain Thyme_ ’?” Rich whistled and Gil and Steven applauded, so Jensen opened his guitar case reluctantly.

“You’all know I don’t do this for a living, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it before. Shut up and sing.” Rich flapped a hand at him and took another swallow of beer.

Settling the guitar in his arms Jensen strummed lightly over the strings. It felt good to be holding his own instrument again. “Remember,” he grinned, “You asked for this.”

_Oh, the summer time is coming,   And the trees are blooming,   And the wild mountain thyme   Grows around the blooming heather._

_Will you go, lassie, will you go?_

_And we'll all go together_

_To pull wild mountain thyme_

_All around the blooming heather,_

_Will you go, lassie, go?_

Several songs and several beers later, Alaina gazed around Jensen’s living room. “So this is it?”

With all his personal items removed, the room looked strangely barren and deserted. A few bags of trash sat near the door, ready to be carried out. But Jensen knew she wasn’t talking about the apartment.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jensen gazed around the room at his friends all together here in this place for what was probably the last time. He forced a haphazard smile onto his face before speaking. “Hey listen, I really appreciate this, guys. You’ll have to visit me in Munter’s Gorge. See the sights.”

Rich hugged him and mock punched him in the chin, “Never say no to a free vacation is what I always say. And hey, if you’re back in town don’t be a stranger, man. Me sofa, et tu sofa.”

“Right back at ya.” They clicked beer bottles and Richard strolled toward the door.

Before he went through it he turned to say, “Oh hey, I’ll mail you a check for all your stuff.”

“’Kay. Thanks man.” Jensen knew Rich would be more than fair.

Gil stepped up and shook his hand, and Jensen reeled him in for a hug.

“Maybe Kristin and I will take a drive some summer over your way. We always wanted to see the Northwest. Kristin has some family there.” Gil’s smile started to dim. “I’ll miss ya man.”

“Yeah, me too. And you’re always welcome to visit.” Jensen gave his friend another quick hug, and then turned to Alaina, hovering beside him.

“I’m going to miss you Jen-bear.”

“Me too Ally. You, that is, not me.” Jensen gave his friend a lopsided grin. “Don’t be a stranger, right? We have plenty of rooms at the farm.”

“Yeah right, me and a farm. Would these heels be caught dead anywhere near mud?” Alaina lifted one of her stiletto clad feet daintily and shuddered delicately. “Or worse? Anyway I’ll email you, keep you up to date on the latest toys. Gotta keep the prettiest boy I know safe. Montana’s bear country, from what I hear.” She squeezed his face with her fingers, then her eyes darkened as she leaned in for a kiss.

“Love you too.” Jensen dodged Alaina's kiss, moving his head at the last minute so it landed on his cheek.

She sighed, “So that’s how it is now, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jensen’s smile was wistful. He kissed her on the forehead, Alaina resting against his chest as he held her tight one last time. Breathing in her very human scent, Jensen could smell the sadness and regret clinging to her skin.

The honk of a horn broke them apart, and Alaina lifted her head. “Gil must be getting impatient to get home to his new wifey.” Her smile was wry, but fond. She gave Jensen one last squeeze and ran out to Gil’s truck. It was full dark outside as Jensen and Williams stood on the small open air front porch, backlit by the light inside. They waved goodbye as Gil and Alaina drove away.

When the truck rounded the corner, Jensen turned to Steve, “Another drink?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

It was getting hot and stuffy in the apartment, so the two men grabbed a couple of beers and wandered out onto the back deck to relax and cool off. With the slight breeze, the outside temperature was cooler, but not uncomfortable, and the two settled into the two old lawn chairs Jensen had decided to leave behind with the house, and gazed up at the night sky.

“So when did you know?” Jensen glanced over at Williams, curious.

“Well I thought something was up when you stayed so long at the Gorge, but then when you actually came back to Dallas, even though there were so many ways you could have gotten out of the trip, I figured I must have been wrong.”

“Were you in on it?”

“No, I had nothing to do with Omundson and his tricks. I only noticed you flinch out of the corner of my eye. Omundson had been watching you so closely all night, I wondered if something was up. When we sat in our assigned seating I noticed your cutlery pattern didn’t match mine. The way you were holding it in the napkin I put two and two together and figured he’d set up the ambush. That was the first I knew for sure.” Williams voice was pitched low, his tone neutral.

Swallowing around the big lump in his throat, Jensen asked, “And you’re okay with this?”

“Well you didn’t exactly choose this, I imagine. Did you?” Williams side-eyed him in the darkness, and Jensen shook his head, no.

“I was dying. I would have died, simple as that. The only way Jared could save me was to turn me. I–I didn’t want it, but now, now I’m not so sure. I feel at peace. Maybe for the first time in my life. Maybe it’s my wolf, maybe it’s Jared, I don’t know, but I wouldn’t trade my life now with anything I had in the past.”

Williams nodded thoughtfully.

“I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s not all we’ve been told it is. Wolves aren’t out of control monsters. They’re just regular people trying to get along. At Munter’s Gorge, everyone knows there are wolves there, a full pack, but they’ve lived side by side with them in peace for decades. We have an alpha, a good man, and he’s all about change for the better. He brought me into the pack, accepted me when he didn’t have to, found a place for me. All they want is to be left alone, to live their own lives. That’s originally what the Reservations were supposed to be like. But if they ever were, they’re not like that anymore. If you’d seen what I’d seen….”

“It’s bad, is it?” Williams was watching Jensen closely in the darkness. Jensen could smell the dread on the other man’s skin.

Jensen shook his head again, unable to speak at first. “I went there before I was fully turned, before all my senses were wolf keen, but even as it was, what I saw, what I experienced… Death would be preferable to what is going on there. It’s not what the reservations were intended to be. Frankly, it’s a wonder the whole prison population doesn’t rise up against their jailors. But then, shock collars with bombs in them, and the uranium poisoning of every were on the rez sort of discourages any kind of protest. The whole thing, it’s not what I thought I was fighting for.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to do your job…when you’re called?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to find that out. I’ve done it once now, and it resulted in a were’s death. I’m going to have to go on a case by case basis, see how I do. Maybe I won’t last long as a resident marshal, but I’d like a chance to fight from the inside for change." Jensen turned toward Williams in the dark. "Or should I just quit now?”

Steve shook his head and sighed. “When I started to suspect you’d been turned, I took a tour of a rez in New Mexico. I was worried about how you might be treated…if-if it was true. It made me sick. They were using children for labor, out in the hot sun, watering the rows of orange trees the prison uses to supplement their income. I don’t know when it changed, but you’re right. This is not the system I signed up for, either. They were supposed to be independent communities, able to make decisions on their own, even apply for travel vouchers if needed. Now they’re just prisons.”

Williams looked up at the stars. “I honestly believed in what we were doing. And now, I feel like a fool that I've been blind to the truth for so long. I realize now that people like Omundson encouraged this, are even profiting from it. Now that I know better, it’s hard to know who I can trust to help change things. It’s not something I think I can fight alone.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m with you, however I can help. I might even have a few ideas of my own.”

“I’m listening…”

By the time Williams left, it was well past two in the morning. Standing on the front porch watching the Director drive away, Jensen realized his skin itched with the desire to be gone from the city. The noise and smells of too much humanity packed too tightly together were pressing in on him, and he wanted nothing more than to get back to Montana as quickly as he could.

Back inside, he roamed around the house wide awake, more restless than ever, his were metabolism unaffected by the copious amounts of alcohol he’d had to drink. Having said his final farewells, it came to him that there was actually nothing holding him here any longer, no need for him to put off leaving a minute longer. He went to work, loading the last of his things into the Rover. The last items were his guitar case, carefully nestled in the back seat, and his coffee maker, safely wrapped in bubblewrap in a sturdy box, and buckled into the Rover's passenger seat. Within the hour, he was dropping his keys off in Rich’s mailbox and heading out of the city.

When he broke free of the city limits, his chest started to loosen, and when he was well past the last of the suburban lights and out into open desert, Jensen rolled all the windows down. The cool desert air on his skin was liberating. Free of the static of the city he could feel the moon’s pull, the soft hum in the air as she waxed nearer to full. Acting on instinct, Jensen took a random exit off the interstate. He sped past the gas stations poised near the off ramp like vultures, and drove into the darkness for a several miles, only pulling over when there was no sign of a light or house anywhere, only the soft glow of the stars overhead.

Opening his door, he got out and looked up at the moon and shivered, the hair on the back of his neck rising. His wolf growled in sympathy. Within minutes, the Rover's windows were rolled up, the vehicle locked, and his clothing and car keys safely stashed behind some brush just off the road.

It had been days since he’d last shifted, and his soul hungered for it in a way he could never have imagined needing, chafing at the confinement. Standing under the silver light of the moon, Jensen spread his hands in supplication and simply let it happen, crying out in _pleasurepain_ as he slipped off his human form and into his wolf’s skin once more. His cry ended in a triumphant howl as paws replaced hands and feet, glorying again in the sensation of the wind in his fur.

Energized by the shift, he set off across the desert, the scents and sounds of the desert filling his nose and ears, fresh and delectably unfamiliar to him. Free for the first time in days, he set up a punishing pace, pushing himself to the edge of his endurance, reveling in the sensations of his wolf’s unfettered strength. The moon hummed her approval and the stars danced, so many more of them to see now, in the unpolluted skies. Hours later, once he had fully cast off the last of the stink of the city, he slowed into a comfortable, loping run.

In the distance he heard a lonely howl. He stopped and listened to see if the wolf would howl again. When it finally did, he could hear the query in its voice; as it called out into the night, wondering if it was truly alone or not beneath the vast blanket of stars. Jensen couldn’t tell if it was were or wolf, but he joined in anyway in joyous accompaniment, howling with his wolf brother as he stared up at the moon to let him know he was not alone, that he would always have pack.

 

Comments always appreciated ^^


	13. The Forge — Santuary

  
  


 

NOTE: This chapter contains graphic captive torture and scenes dealing with Jensen. Each begins and ends with* * * if you wish to skip over.

: : :

Jensen’s hand slammed down hard on the alarm when it went off early Monday morning. Catching only the side of the clock and missing the off button entirely, the only thing he succeeded in doing was to knock it off the bedside table onto the floor. Groaning, he threw his pillow at the still bleating alarm and rolled to his side. He’d arrived back home from Dallas late Saturday evening, and with one day to unwind before he was due back in the office, he and Jared had spent most of Sunday in bed together, making love and napping in between as Jensen filled his mate in on everything that happened at the Bureau.

He had planned to tell Jared when he got in on Saturday night, but had still been processing the information, himself. So it was Sunday, the two of them propped against a mound of pillows, with Jared lying in Jensen’s arms, when he broke the news.

“Jay, I have something to tell you, and I don’t want you to panic. Just hear me out, okay?”

At instant attention, Jared had shifted out of his arms so he could look Jensen in the face, a look of concern on his own. “Tell me.”

Tugging at his lip, Jensen tried to think of a way to soften it, and failing, just pushed on, “When I was back in Dallas, I was almost caught. Don’t worry, don’t worry," he put hands on Jared's shoulders in quick reassurance. "Nothing happened. It was Steve who saved me, actually. Omundson set a trap, some silverware, the details don't matter. But Steve helped me, he covered my ass when he could have turned me in. Then the next night, after I finished packing up and everyone else had left, I told him everything. About you, me, the Iron Ridge pack, and what the Reservations are really like.”

“Oh my God, Jensen. I know he’s your friend, but he could put us all in jail.”

Jensen shook his head vehemently. “No, it’s not like that. He’s on our side. He wants to help. Things are changing at the Bureau, Jay, and not for the good. And he doesn’t want any part of it. I get the idea he’s planning to spend a lot more time visiting Munter’s Gorge. I would trust this man with my life, Jay, he’s good people.”

Jared had appeared to acquiesce, taking Jensen’s word for it that Steve would be good for the pack. But he knew it bothered his mate to have someone inside the Bureau know their secret.

Now it was Monday morning, and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Jared, of course, was already up and gone to the bakery.

Jensen growled grumpily. He should have listened to Jared and taken another couple of days off work, but he felt guilty, knowing he’d soon be taking yet another week off to accommodate Jared’s heat. Sullenly, he forced his sorry ass up out of bed, bribed by the aroma of coffee Jared had left for him, wafting through the bedroom door his mate had deliberately left open.

 

Cleaned up and surprisingly chipper, he strolled into the station an hour later. Stopping first by Shelly's desk to check up on the previous weekend’s activities. “Hey Shel, anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

Looking up at him over her gold-rimmed spectacles Shelly smiled, “Oh you know, the usual assortment.” As she pursed her lips, Jensen could almost see the gears moving as she mentally flipped through the dispatch calls she’d handled in the last week. “Let’s see, there was a fire down on Beckman’s Road, the Francy’s house, some trouble with the chimney flue. The fire department got there in time, though. A couple of teens were spotted tagging the back entrance of KAWL, repeat offenders: the Hudson boy, David, and his friend, Jake Niven. Patrol picked them up later. They were released on condition of community service. The only really unusual thing has been the rash of crank calls we’ve been getting the last few days. I highlighted them for you and the sheriff,” Shelly said, handing him the logbook. Jensen paged through the call list, his brow furrowed.

“And no response once the officer got there?”

“None. We get the call, a muffled male voice obviously trying to disguise himself. Always the same MO for the location, vacant properties of some kind, or secluded sections of the park — out of the way places. The reasons for the calls vary, though. Once, the caller had seen someone breaking into an abandoned building, another time it was a fight in progress, so he mixes it up. The officer arrives on scene, and there's nothing. No vandalism, no B&E, no sign of any kind of crime going on. If they're crank calls, they're odd, and to what end? The voice sounds older, so this is not a kid we’re talking about. Listen.” Shelly passed him her headset and played one of the 911 recordings.

The caller was obviously attempting to camouflage his voice, lower and more gravelly than normal speech. Even with his enhanced were hearing, Jensen couldn’t recognize whoever it was. Nothing in the background gave away the location. “I can’t place it,” he said, tugging off the headset and shaking his head in frustration. “Do we know where he was calling from?”

“Always a pay phone, sometimes close to the scene, sometimes not.”

“Hmm, I wonder what his game is.”

“Who knows? Sometimes a whack-a-doodle is just a whack-a-doodle."

Jensen grinned. He couldn't fault her logic. “Well, if you catch another one of these calls, send it my way, will you?”

Shelly nodded, patting his arm, “Will do hon, and you be extra careful out there, all right?”

It turned out to be a quiet day on patrol, no major accidents, even though the weather alternated between rain and snow flurries. Jensen dropped in to visit Osric to let him know how well all his tech had worked, and to update him on all the new changes at the bureau.

Oz nodded slowly, obviously processing the new information. “Hmm, interesting. I didn’t know the Bureau had the pull to get those kind of units in place, and so fast. Sounds like they were reworked from the new CIA system, with some added rings of security directed specifically at weres. Must have cost them a bundle.”

“Yeah, well, all I know is, if I never have to go into one of those cylinders again it will be too soon.” Jensen dug into his pocket and passed Osric a USB slug with a word file of all the passwords he’d typed out once he got home. “Here, Happy Hannukah! I didn’t want to risk emailing this.”

“Awesome.” Oz said as he snatched up the stick. He plugged it into his system and started scanning lines of code, and Jensen’s password and username for the bureau. Glancing over his shoulder at Jensen he said, “You know, that’s a normal hardwired response for a were. They probably flush out quite a few weres without even vetting them, just from the claustrophobic reaction to the enclosure. Brilliant, really. I haven’t even tried the back door you installed. Didn’t want you anywhere near the premises when I activated it. Here we go.” Oz grinned and looked back to his screen, pressing a few keys, copying and pasting a few pass codes before his mouth hung open, with a hushed, “Oh wow!”

It was obvious the new information was far more interesting to Osric than continued conversation. "I see you’re going to be busy for a while, so I’ll just see myself out.”

“Ah shit, this is unbelievable! Hmmm.”

He hesitated in case the young programmer had questions. "So, you good with this?”

“Oh, I gotcha baby!” Oz glanced sheepishly up at Jensen when he finally realized he was waiting for a response. “Yeah, sure man, this is great. I can get into so much trouble with this.”

“Okay, well remember, it’s my password.”

“No worries. I’ve already generated my own with the back door code you installed. Say hi to the Jay-man for me.”

“Alright. ‘bye, then.” Jensen smirked, knowing Osric was in geek heaven at the moment.

“And Jensen?”

“Yup?” Jensen paused, Stetson in hand.

“You did good, Marshal. This is the mother lode. It’ll take me a week just to sift through it all.”

“Glad to oblige.” Jensen smiled widely as he put on his Stetson.

Feeling pretty good, he decided it was close enough to lunch to drop into the Wired Bean for lunch, and to refill his thermos. Besides, there was a croissant there with his name on it.

 

“Come on, man, tell me the truth, you only love me for my coffee.” Jared shook his head in mock disappointment. Jensen folded his arms across the top of the glass bake case and grinned. He didn’t have the heart to tell Jared he had a big magenta streak of chalk going across his forehead, or several vivid blue lines running through his hair from his daily battle with the Wired Bean’s menu board. He’d let Jared find out for himself when he went to get cleaned up.

Pursing his lips, Jensen took his time answering. “Well you do make a mighty fine cup of joe.” Jared threw up his rainbow colored hands, pretending defeat, and started to turn away. Jensen darted to the side of the bake case and looped an arm out over the counter to reel his mate in, forcing him to lean so that their chests were pushed together.

The fingers of Jensen's free hand gently stroked Jared’s hair back to whisper in his ear as his other hand started to tickle his ribs, “But truth is, I mated you for your sexy bod.”

Jared wriggled as he tried to get away from Jensen’s roaming fingers. He reminded Jensen of a big, strapping, gorgeous schoolboy, and he was all Jensen's. He intended to prove that to Jared — again — when they both got home.

 

Humming happily to himself as he got back in his Rover, thermos refilled, Jensen did his usual circuit of the Gorge and outlying areas, and the rest of the afternoon slipped by quietly, which suited Jensen just fine. Toward the end of his shift, he stopped two kids from spray painting an industrial dumpster, and had just handed them over to their parents when he got a call to handle a noise dispute over on Pine, just a few blocks away. “Watch out for these two, Marshal, they’re a handful.” Jensen could hear the laughter in Shelly’s voice over the radio. It involved a long standing dispute between eighty three year old Minnie McCuskey and her equally elderly neighbor, Dorothy Maitland, over Minnie’s dog.

“I tell ya, the little yapper never shuts up.” Dorothy Maitland huffed, leaning with an elbow propped on the handle of her snow shovel, the blade sunk in a small drift.

“His name is Mr. Piggles, and he does shut up. He only barks when you’re out on your porch.”

“I should be able to sit on my porch, or shovel the snow in my drive in peace and quiet without the yapper barking the whole time.”

“Well you could if he liked you. He doesn’t like you, dear.” Mrs. McCuskey purred, with the small barking dog under her arm.

Resisting the urge to rub his suddenly throbbing head, Jensen opened the screen door of Minnie’s home and gestured inside, “Mrs. McCuskey could you come with me please?”

“Certainly, dear.”

Jensen could see the exasperation on Mrs. Maitland’s face. He waved to her for patience as he led the elderly woman back into her house, the dog barking the whole time. Jensen’s head started to ache in earnest.

“Yes?” Mrs. McCuskey looked up at as Mr. Piggles continued to bark.

“I think you have to face the fact that your dog needs obedience training, ma'am. Mrs. Maitland has every right to be outside on her own property and not be harassed. Don’t you find it a bit irritating right now that your dog is still barking?” Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose. Before this was over he knew he’d have a massive headache.

“Oh tosh, he’s a dear thing, wouldn’t hurt a fly. But if I must, I must. Now where would I get these lessons, did you say? Oh wait, let me grab a pen. I won’t be a minute."

She set Mr. Piggles on the floor, and the little white dog continued to yap non-stop. Finally glancing around and seeing no one in sight, Jensen growled, letting Wolf out just enough to show Mr. Piggles who was boss. The small dog shut up immediately and went running to its owner. Mrs. McCuskey returned with a pen, the subdued, silent dog in her arms. “Oh see, he can be quiet.” She preened.

“Right now," Jensen qualified. "But I want you to put him in classes, or you’ll be fined next time, for noise violations." He leant down enough to look the old lady sternly in the eyes, "I’m telling Mrs. Maitland to call me personally if this continues." Jensen jotted down the address of a local dog trainer Shelly had supplied him with, handed back her pad and pen, and walked to the door.

She watched him with wide eyes, her mouth half open in surprise until he was through the door. “Well, I never!” she huffed, but her voice was soft enough he could pretend not to hear, as the screen door slammed shut behind him.

Mrs. Maitland was standing patiently in her driveway, a skeptical expression on her face.

“Call me if this keeps up,” he told her, passing her his card, “I’ve advised her to take the dog to a trainer for obedience lessons immediately. And if this happens again, we’ll fine her next time.’

“Oh thank goodness, the thing has been driving me crazy since I moved in six months ago. Would you like to come inside for a cup of tea and a cookie, hon?”

Jensen gave her a smile, and was about to accept when he got a call to contact dispatch on his radio. “Whoops, duty calls.” Shaking his head sadly, he waved and clicked on the radio receiver as he climbed back into the Rover. “Ackles here.”

“We just got another call. It’s him. This time it’s for vandalism, out at the old abandoned church on South Fork Road.” Shelly sounded out of breath.

“Okay, I’m fifteen minutes away. Send backup, we need to see what kind of game this guy is playing.”

“Roger that. Backup should reach you in fifteen. Nicky's out over the Gorge side and Joe is even farther.”

“That’s fine. It’s just a precaution.”

As Jensen expected, when he got to the church, he could find no signs of vandalism. He walked the perimeter, but there was no sign of movement of any kind, let alone vandals. He returned to his Rover.

“Station, it’s all clear here. Call Nicky off, it’s a waste of time. I’m going to have one more look around, then call it a day. I’ll see you tomorrow, hon.”

“Roger that, Marshal.”

Jensen pulled his flashlight out of the console between the seats. It was getting dark, but he didn’t think he’d missed anything. He inhaled deeply to see if he could catch a trace scent...nothing. He tried the front doors of the church, and they were locked, as they should be. But when he tried the side door, it swung open easily. Switching on his light, he stepped inside. “Anyone here?”

The smell of stale air, mold and wood rot assaulted his nose as he moved further into the church. It was pretty much empty with all of the pews gone, the stained glass removed from the windows, and the openings boarded over. He panned his flashlight across where the pulpit would have stood and called out again. “Anyone here?”

A soft squeak of the floorboards was the only thing that alerted him before something hard slammed against the side of his head, and he was crashing to his knees.

The darkness of the church interior grew as consciousness faded. Before he passed out completely, the last words he heard were, “Remember me, Marshal?”

Jensen’s head was killing him, and blood dripped from the wound into his eyes from the spot where the blow had connected. It was like a sharp spike had been driven into his brain, pain radiating in throbbing jolts from the wound with every beat of his heart. His shoulders and hands hurt like a son of a bitch as he swayed bodily in mid-air. The movement was making him a little sick as he listed back and forth, all his weight on his wrists and shoulders. His feet were leaden weights pulling him down, but somehow he still wasn’t touching the ground.

A voice buzzed around him, indecipherable and bothersome. Jensen opened his eyelids a crack to find the source, but his surroundings were blurry and too bright, light stabbing into his wounded brain. His eyelids slammed shut and he bit down before a moan of pain could escape his lips and let his captor know he was awake. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to relax, and see if he could learn something about his kidnapper.

He couldn’t make sense of what was being said, at first. It was all a low mumble, but then the murmurs started to resolve into words, and those words finally connected into full sentences. The first thing that he understood was, “You know, it’s really amazing how many useful things you can get out of the back of a marshal’s truck. Like, who would think I could find silver cuffs there, or a shock collar and chains? Handy things to have, when you need them.”

A hand slapped him across the face…hard. “Hey! Wake up. I know you’re awake. Time to get this party started.”

Jensen forced his eyelids open again. He had to blink rapidly because blood was now dripping into his right eye from his head wound. He tossed his head in irritation, instantly regretting the sudden movement as shards of glass seemed to stab into his brain.

A hand grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head back. “Remember me, Marshal?”

Jensen blinked rapidly, the double vision gradually settling to a single image.

Evan Foldbrook.

**Jared — 7:00 p.m.**

Jared wasn’t one to worry, as a rule, but it wasn’t like Jensen not to call or text when he was going to be late. After his third phone call went to voicemail, he decided to call Jim.

“No, sorry, I didn’t see him, Jay. As far as I know, he was investigating a call at the old Baptist Church on South Fork Road, you know the one where I caught you and Kenny smoking? I think you were all of ten at the time.”

“Yeah, I know the church. But was that the last anybody heard from him?”

“Let me make a few calls. I’ll get back to you right away, son.”

Jared busied himself making a fresh pot of coffee, the sense of unease never leaving him. He was standing in front of the big picture window overlooking the road up to the house, a cup of coffee clasped in his hands, when Jim called back.

“Well, Shelly said he hadn’t found anything, but he was going to take one final look before signing off for the day." Jared could hear the added concern now in Jim's voice, and it scared him a little. "That was over three hours ago. He’s not answering his radio. And you can’t get him by phone, either?”

“No, nothing. No text replies, no call backs, all my calls keep going to voicemail.”

“You sure he didn’t just drop by Kane’s for a beer, or something?”

“No." Jared tried to keep the worry from edging into panic. "I called there, as well. I’m telling you, something’s wrong.”

“Well, legally, we can’t declare a person missing until twenty four hours are up, but I can get one of my men to swing by the church and take a look. I’ll call you back once I hear from them.”

“Thanks Sheriff…” relief warred with fear in Jared's voice, and Beaver couldn't help but hear it.

“Jared? Don’t you worry son, we’ll find him.”

* * *

**Jensen — the mine**

Jensen faded in and out of consciousness. At one point he heard, “You passed out again.” The man… no, _Foldbrook’s_ voice spoke from somewhere several feet behind him. “I think the bleeding has stopped for now.”

Jensen shuddered as he slipped back under. Something in Foldbrook’s tone promised the bleeding was going to continue.

 

When he resurfaced again, all he could feel was pain. He hung there for a moment before he gathered enough strength to crack open an eyelid. When he did, all he could see was flickering blobs of light dancing before his eyes. He blinked repeatedly, staring determinedly at the moving shapes until they resolved into the flames of a campfire. Licking his dry lips, Jensen squeezed his eyes tightly closed before opening them again, continuing to blink until things came fully into focus and he could take a look around.

It appeared he was in a cave, or a mineshaft of some kind, but he could see no tracks. A cold current of air was running steadily through the tunnel, and Jensen’s back was as cold as his front, facing the fire, was warm. There wasn’t much to see, just the heavy beams and supports for the shaft, rough hewn rock walls, smooth dirt floor, and the blazing fire in front of him. There was a bedroll, knapsack and portable lantern, so this must be where Foldbrook had been hiding out. He just wondered where ‘here’ was. Jensen tried to move his arms, but it was like trying to control jello.

It was as he let his chin fall to his chest that he noticed it, the small red light of the video camera on the other side of the fire. Whatever Foldbrook was planning, he was recording it. Jensen’s gut twisted.

His marshal training kicked in and he catalogued his various injuries: he was pretty sure both shoulders were dislocated, and he had been hanging from his wrists for so long his hands were numb. Looking down at his feet he saw silver manacles chained around each ankle. He was pretty sure he knew where Foldbrook had gotten his hands on those, just like he was equally sure that if his hands weren’t so numb, he’d be feeling the burn from matching silver cuffs eating into the skin of his wrists. Without the thin protection of his pants legs and socks, the same would be true of his ankles. Wolf whimpered, disoriented and confused by the fact he felt another presence in the room but couldn’t scent anything. Jensen inhaled deeply, he couldn’t either, but his gut said Wolf was right. The bastard was probably standing just a few feet behind him, watching.

He wanted to twist around to face his captor, but a chain running from the manacles around his feet connected to a heavy ring embedded in a huge beam lying across the ground, holding him in place.

Letting the alpha in his voice show, he snarled, “I can’t scent you, but I know you’re there. Come out where I can see you, you coward.”

Silence.

Jensen waited.

“Hmm, good to know grandma Soams’ receipt works. With all these great sniffers around town, moving undetected was the biggest chore. Who knew a little wild leek, some yampha, thimbleberry and a pinch of wild clematis would stump the whole pack? And I’m the _coward_? I’m not the one who hid behind the tribunal to fight his battles. I’m no coward, I was following orders.” Foldbrook’s self- satisfied drawl floated out, echoing off the stone around them.

Jensen couldn’t keep the sneer of disgust off his face. “Orders to rape and kill are not orders to be followed, or to be proud of. You got what you deserved.”

An enraged snarl, and Foldbrook was suddenly standing by his side, a knife with a sharp silver blade held up at eye level between them. “What I deserved…” Evan started to laugh, a mad edge to his voice. “You’re going to learn all about ‘what was deserved’.”

Realizing he needed to de-escalate the situation quickly in order to stall off whatever insanity Foldbrook was planning, Jensen backtracked, deliberately changing the topic and pitching his voice low to calm the man down. “So this was all you, all these false calls? Not your buddy…Winters, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, my idea, all mine.” Foldbrook sing songed. “But enough talk. Now that you’re finally awake we need to get you ready.”

“Wait — but where is Winters? You guys were good friends, right? You wouldn’t leave your friend out there alone, would you? Wouldn’t you share your secret batcave with him?”

Foldbrook tilted his head and leaned in closer to Jensen, pressing the edge of the silver knife into Jensen’s cheekbone, level with his eyes. Jensen held his breath, and said nothing. Foldbrook hummed off-key as he dug the knife into Jensen’s skin, cutting a straight path across one cheek and over the ridge of Jensen’s nose, ending on the other side of his face. His eyes glittered as he watched the beads of blood well up on Jensen’s face. Then, very carefully, Foldbrook leaned in and licked across Jensen’s right cheek. He chuckled low and cruel, “I think you should be quiet now, Marshal. Every time you speak I feel like cutting something off of you.”

With a bloody smile, he started to cut at Jensen’s shirt, humming softly as the silver blade went to work. Jensen’s bulletproof vest was already gone, and he winced as Foldbrook’s knife caught him along the ribs. “Better hold still, it will only hurt worse.”

Jensen gritted his teeth against the pain and stubbornly persisted. He needed to know how many captors he was dealing with. “Where’s Winters, Evan? Where’s your partner?”

Foldbrook stopped slicing at the cotton of Jensen’s shirt, “Oh, he’s gone. Gone, gone, gone. He said he didn’t need the pack. But I do. I want back in.”

“Why the series of calls? What was that about, Evan?”

“I wanted to lure you out, get you alone. Jim kept sending others instead of you. But I have you now, and I can prove my worth to the pack.” Foldbrook finished cutting Jensen’s shirt from his back and started to unbuckle Jensen’s heavy leather belt.

“And how are you going to do that, Evan? You know they’ll be looking for me.”

“Oh they’ll try, but they won’t find me, just like they won’t find you. They can’t find what they can’t scent. I could be right under their noses and they’d never know it. Silly pack…”

“If you hurt me, they won’t stop until they do find you, Evan, and they’ll punish you, worse than before.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, the pack admires strength, courage. I’ll show them. They’ll want me back, especially when I show them how weak you are, how easily you died, then they’ll want me back. Only a real were can survive shunning and bring back a trophy. I’m going to show them you were never worthy of them in the first place.”

Foldbrook pulled Jensen’s belt from the loops and started to cut his jeans away. The blade sliced shallowly into Jensen’s thigh several times as he worked his way down to Jensen’s boots. Jensen ground his teeth. It was obvious shunning had unhinged the were. All he could see in Foldbrook's pale blue eyes was madness. At least his hand was steady on the blade.

His time after the Tribunal had clearly taken a toll. Foldbrook had been slightly on the big side when Jensen had had his run in with him, but still muscular, his black hair and beard well kept. Now he looked like a wild man, his hair curling around his head, shiny with grease and dirt, his beard unkempt. His clothing was shabby and worn, and hung loose on his now scarecrow thin frame. From the look of him, Foldbrook should have reeked to high heaven, but all Jensen could smell was dirt and damp.

Foldbrook finished cutting, and Jensen hung naked in front of the fire.

“We’re ready now,” Foldbrook’s voice was high and thready as he dropped the knife, so it stuck point down into the ground, and walked toward the fire. He picked up a tire iron that was halfway in the fire, one end black and obviously cool enough to grip barehanded, but the other end, the end in the fire, was bright red, with a glowing circle at the end of it. Foldbrook crouched down and inspected it and then seemingly satisfied with what he saw, rose and advanced toward Jensen.

As he came closer, Jensen started to thrash weakly, trying to loosen the chains holding him overhead, or kick out with both feet, anything. Because at the end of the glowing tire iron was a familiar shape, the five pointed star surrounded by a circle of his marshal’s badge, the silver bubbling hot. He was about to be branded with his own shield.

 

Foldbrook held it up in front of Jensen’s face, and he could read "U. S. Marshal" in the glowing silver. Waves of heat came off the shield. Silver liquefied at a low temperature and the silver plating was only a few degrees away from sloughing off the steel badge. He was pretty sure the only thing worse than the raw steel searing into his skin would be the liquid silver. He renewed his efforts to escape.

“I’d hold still if I were you, or I’ll have to brand you a second time to get a cleaner sign. Hang on, Marshal. I can tell you from personal experience, this is going to hurt.”

Foldbrook braced himself tight against Jensen’s back, shoving his leg between Jensen’s bound legs, pinning him in place. His left arm clamped around Jensen’s waist as his right arm held the brand to the meat of his right hip. Jensen tried to keep silent, and not give the were the satisfaction of hearing his pain, but as the nearly liquid silver contacted his skin and began to run down his leg, and the remaining steel of the badge began to burn into his flesh, Jensen couldn’t bite back his scream.

Wolf went insane, biting and snarling inside him as the metal continued to melt into his skin. Jensen’s nose filled with the stink of his own burning flesh; his gut twisted, and tried to turn itself inside out. Hot silver was digging several pathways down the outside of his leg, and Jensen gagged as both silver and blood dripped onto the ground.

He didn’t even notice when Foldbrook released him and dropped the impromptu branding iron to the dirt floor of the tunnel, laughing madly. “You see, you see? They won’t want you back, now that you’re marked. Now they’ll switch you for me, and things can go back to what they were. Maybe they’ll even let me keep you as my bitch. Wouldn’t that be fun, Marshal? Then I could have all the fun with you I wanted.”

Foldbrook grinned up at Jensen, mad determination shining out of his eyes. When he reached for Jensen’s nipples and pinched them, Jensen tried to struggle, still half blind with pain.

“Let go of me, you sick fuck.” Jensen threw all the ‘alpha’ he could into his order and Foldbrook paused, but only for a moment. Releasing Jensen’s nipples with a cruel leer, Foldbrook let his hands trail down Jensen’s chest, the insanity in his eyes taking on a sadistic gleam.

“You can’t order me around. I’m the Alpha here. You’re the omega bitch and I’ll show you your place.” Foldbrook grabbed one of Jensen’s nipples and twisted until he cried out. With a sadistic laugh Foldbrook angled around so he could grind his rapidly hardening erection against Jensen’s burning thigh.

Jensen screamed as scratchy material of Foldbrook’s still clothed cock rubbed at the throbbing skin around the unhealed brand. “No, no, no! Stop, stop, for fuck’s sake, stop!”

“Don’t tell me no!” Furious, Foldbrook grabbed Jensen’s balls, squeezing and twisting. Pain enveloped Jensen’s whole body and in agony, he arched his body forward into Foldbrook’s hand, anything to relieve the pressure. Foldbrook continued to twist, and Jensen mewled weakly, everything hurting. Desperately, he tried to let go, relax in his chains, and hold as still as he could, so as not to agitate Foldbrook further.

“Uh-uh, not going to get out of this by playing dead.” For Foldbrook’s part, this only seemed to arouse him more. There was a rushed fumble with a belt buckle, the sound of a zipper being tugged down and a muttered groan as jeans were shoved out of the way, and the wet nudge of Foldbrook’s cock along his ass cheek. Foldbrook moved a half step behind Jensen, and that cock was probing bluntly between the cheeks of Jensen's ass, his only warning before it was shoved hard into Jensen's tight hole.

There was no prep or lube, just Foldbrook’s cock pushing deep inside him until his swelling knot bumped up against Jensen’s rim.

Jensen grabbed onto the silver chains of his manacles in an effort to relieve the stress on his shoulders as Foldbrook rammed into him again and again. Rather than give the were the satisfaction, Jensen bit into the meat of his bicep to muffle his screams. Foldbrook’s fingers turned to claws that sank into Jensen’s hips, over the brand, pinning him in place as he thrust into Jensen’s unprepared body. Jensen could feel his entrance tearing, and blood lubricating Foldbrook’s invasion. His vision narrowed to one pinprick of light around the fire as he tried to stay conscious. When Foldbrook finally managed to shove his knot inside, Jensen howled.

“That’s it, love,” Foldbrook rubbed his face against Jensen’s shoulders, “Sing for me. Sing loud as you can. No one can hear you down here.”

Under the unblinking red glare of the video camera, Foldbrook continued to thrust into him until his knot swelled so big he could barely move inside Jensen any longer, his guttural grunts punctuated by the cruel, dirty whispers of all the things he had in store for Jensen. With a final thrust, Foldbrook let loose a triumphant roar, coming deep inside his captive. As Foldbrook’s seed pulsed inside him he grabbed Jensen by the hair and, pulling his head back, bit down into his shoulder.

Stunned, Jensen could only hang there. He wanted to scream, punch out, weep, as Foldbrook’s teeth sank in deep over Jared’s mark. He wanted to fight and rail against this obscene mockery of mating, his mating mark now sullied by this demented monster, but the room was starting to go dark. As consciousness leaked away, he heard Foldbrook growl, “Mine.”

* * *

Comments always appreciated ^^


	14. The Forge — The Hunt

 

 

 

NOTE: This chapter contains graphic captive torture and scenes dealing with Jensen. Each begins and ends with* * * if you wish to skip over.

: : :

**Jared — 11:00 pm**

Jared stood sentinel on the veranda, patiently watching for Jim’s old Dodge pick-up to make its way along the long winding drive from the highway up the hill to the house. Dressed only in a thin t-shirt and sweater over his jeans, his hands were wrapped around his chest, but not in protection against the cold, rather to try and stem the ache of worry in his heart.

_Jensen was in trouble_.

He knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Lights in the distance signaled the sheriff’s arrival. Jared forced himself not to pace as he waited for Jim to pull up into the yard and park in front of the house. The look on Jim’s face as he walked up to the porch said it all. They hadn’t found Jensen.

* * *

**Jensen — the mine**

Sweating and shivering with fever, Jensen’s eyelids fluttered reluctantly open. The small flicker of hope that all of this was simply a horrible dream was quickly doused as the dull ache in his shoulders set in. This time, he found himself lying on his side on the cold, hard ground of the tunnel. The fire that had been blazing earlier had burnt down to only a few struggling embers and the tunnel was illuminated now by the two lanterns Foldbrook had hung from overhead rafters.

Trying not to move, Jensen gazed around carefully, but Foldbrook was nowhere to be seen. By how low the fire had burned, Jensen must have been out for a while. He tried to calculate how long it had been since Foldbrook had taken him. Bringing him from the church to here would have taken a while, maybe two or three hours, then they had probably been tied for an hour, plus the time for the fire to die down. Maybe seven, eight hours had passed. Jared would be worried out of his mind by now.

He tried to move, but his feet were still chained to the beam that lay in front of the guttering fire. It looked like one of the braces for the mineshaft. Jensen’s manacled hands were still tethered to the ceiling, his chains were wrapped around a hoist and anchored off to the side of the tunnel. Foldbrook had lowered Jensen to the ground, enough that all his weight was off his wrists, but it was too late to help his dislocated shoulders. The muscles were stretched wrong and throbbing, but with his hands tied together, there wasn't anything he could do to get either of them back into place, even if he had the strength to try. Sweat trickled down his brow, which was strange, because the tunnel was icy cold. Jensen gritted his teeth as an uncontrollable shiver ran through his body. The movement caused a low moan to slip unbidden past his lips. The charred flesh around the brand hurt like a bitch, the skin was tight and angry, and he could smell the blood still dripping from his torn hole. But, it was his shoulder that burned hotter than the fresh brand on his thigh, his marred mating mark throbbing with each heartbeat. Infection from Foldbrook's bite had set in. Blood poisoning would likely follow, and despite his other injuries, it would be that which could kill him. A malaise of apathy was already settling over him, exhaustion, pain, and thirst pushed aside by the siren call of painless dreams luring him back to sleep.

With a ragged exhale, Jensen forced himself to rally and gather his jumbled thoughts, to focus on how to reposition his hands and investigate the wound. As he moved, pain blazed through his shoulders, his vision blurred, and he passed out again.

* * *

**Jeff — 5:00 a.m.**

“And that’s the last time you saw him?” Jeff’s voice was still rough with sleep, but Jim knew the local Alpha’s mind was going a million miles an hour.

“I sent one of my best trackers, and one of yours, to the scene. He found trace amounts of blood in the church and followed Jensen’s scent until he lost it at the brook out behind the graveyard.” Jim’s hand tightened on the phone. “One scent, Jensen’s, but two sets of footprints — well, one set. Jensen’s feet were mostly dragged, or he was carried. The other person we can only guess at; he must have big feet, from the prints, but they aren't deep enough for him to be a big, heavy guy. He had to be pretty strong, though, to manage Jensen’s weight. Morrison said it was like trying to track a ghost, because Jensen's was the only scent he could follow.”

“Damn.” Jeff grunted. Jim could imagine him rubbing his hands over his face. In the background, Kim’s sleepy voice asked, “What? What’s wrong?” and Jeff’s muffled reply, “Jensen’s missing, someone has him.”

Jim couldn’t hear what Kim said, but he was sure it wasn’t reassuring, he could hear what he guessed were closet doors banging open and closed in the background.

“What do you need?” Jeff growled.

“Well, what I need is to figure out is, who the hell has Jensen and for what reason, and what kind of man leaves no scent. This guy, if he is a guy, has been making crank calls all week, but things only escalated when Jensen arrived on scene. Sounds to me like he was setting a trap just for Jensen. And why can’t we track him? You folks have the best noses about. I thought everything left a scent.”

Jeff groaned heavily, “Ah hell! I was worried about something like this. I don’t know, there’s a slight chance this could be a human, but my money’s on Evan Foldbrook and Nathan Winters. Of all of the troublemakers we dealt with over the years those two were some of the worst. It can’t be a coincidence that we just had the Tribunal, and they would have had the biggest grudge against Jensen. I don’t know how they might be hiding their scent, but there is definitely a chance they could still be hanging around town, even after the shunning.”

“Just what we don’t need, a couple of invisible fucking psychopaths holding my Deputy Chief hostage.” Jim snatched his PD ball cap off his head and slapped it against his thigh. “God Damn it!”

“If it’s them, they’re not looking for money. If they’re still here in town and have Jensen, they’re out for revenge.” Jim could hear the creak of the mattress as Morgan got out of bed, “What do you need me to do?”

“I want you to talk to any friends either of these men might have had. There must be people there who knew them, who know where they might be hiding. See if you can find out where, then we can do a conference call. I’m setting up a search grid and I’d like to co-ordinate our activities with you and your lieutenants. You and your people are the best trackers we’ve got, and even if we can’t scent Foldbrook or Winters, or whoever the hell is responsible for this, we might still be able to pick up Jensen’s trail. That is, if they haven’t already killed him. I’m damn sure we don’t have long.” Jim jammed his beleaguered cap back on his head.

“I’m sending my deputies to scout any abandoned buildings in the nearby area, but you and your people can get to places we can’t reach quickly. I need you to scour those sites, see if you can pick up Jensen’s scent anywhere. I’ll email you the areas of the Gorge I want you to cover. If you find anything, you call.” Jim swore softly, “This ain’t gonna be easy, even with every hand we’ve got on deck. There’s thousands of miles of wilderness, and they could be hiding anywhere. Is there anywhere in particular you think we should start first?”

Jeff thought about it a moment before offering, “Well, there are the Falls themselves, lots of outbuildings at the generating station, and there’s a ton of cabins he could be squirreled up in. Then there’s the abandoned mines, they’re scattered all over these hills. We just have to start looking and hope we find him in time. I’ll ask my people.” Another pause, and then Jeff offered, “There’s also John Michaels. He was part of Pellegrino’s crew, but I think he’s actually a decent guy. Of all of the people who hung out with Foldbrook and Winters, he’d be the most likely to help. He was pretty junior in the ranks, though. I don’t know if he was privy to all of Pellegrino’s secrets, or the places they might hole up. Send me the areas you want us to hit first, and we’ll get the search going, then I’ll head out to Michaels' as soon as I can.”

: : :

**Jeff — 5:10 a.m.**

By the time Jeff got off the phone with Jim and got dressed, Kim already had the coffee going and had called half the members of the council.

When she hung up from the last call she stretched and went over to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Well, they’re on their way. Frank said he’d be a little late, he has to wait for Doris to come home from the hospital so the kids won’t be alone.”

Jeff nodded, pushing back from his laptop to take a sip of his own coffee. “Great start, they can help us with the phone calls. We need to assemble every able-bodied pack member as soon as possible. I’ve sent out a mass email to the whole pack, but a lot of them won’t get it right away."

Kim came close, and Jeff wrapped his hand around her waist, hugging her in tight. The smell of his mate helped to calm him.

“Do you think he’s still alive?” Kim’s gaze met his, and Jeff chewed on his lip before answering.

“I hope so. Because if it does turn out to be them, I don’t ever want to regret not killing one of our own.”

 

**Dylan — 6:00 a.m.**

Dylan wandered out of his bedroom and down the stairs around six in the morning. Noise had woken him, a lot of it, but still he was unprepared for all the activity he saw going on on the first floor. Blinking in surprise, he gazed around the main floor. The kitchen had turned into an impromptu mess hall, with plates of sandwiches and thermoses being filled, as weres Dylan had never met before grabbed a bite to eat before rushing out the door.

A quick glance into the dining room showed it was now a war room, with maps pinned up on the wall, with bright red sharpie notes and sticky notes dotting various locations. Jeff was on the phone and didn’t notice him, but he saw several of the pack's council members in deep discussion.

“Dylan, over here.” Kim gestured for him to come into the kitchen where she was making up a monster vat of egg salad.

“What’s going on?” He half whispered. He could feel the tension in the room, the hushed tones. Something really bad must have happened.

“Honey, I don’t want you to be scared, and I want you to know we’re doing everything we can to help, but Jensen’s missing. We're think he's been kidnapped by two of the Unworthy.”

Dylan’s gut twisted. He hadn’t been around the Iron Ridge Pack long enough to know all the implications of being an Unworthy, but he knew it was bad. And Jensen their prisoner — his heart clenched at the mention of Jensen’s name. Jensen had been the only one to tell it like it was, who seemed to really ‘get’ him. Jensen had been the one to go out on a limb to give Dylan a second chance. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt the alpha. “Is he going to be okay?”

Kim pulled him unresisting into her arms, hugging him in tight. And for the first time Dylan let himself relax into that comforting embrace. “Oh sweetie.” She kissed the top of his head gently. “We hope so. We’re all searching for him now, the whole pack. The sheriff has his deputies, and men from the town working too, but we can go places the Unworthy might be hiding faster than any of Beaver’s men.

“What do you want me to do? I want to help!” Dylan straightened. He was Pack now, saving Jensen was as much his responsibility as anyone else’s.

Kim loosened her hold on him, but didn’t let go completely. He could see tears in her eyes. “Well actually, I do have a job for you. It’s a pretty important job, and I hope you’re up for it. I need you to look after two special people.”

* * *

**Jensen — the mine**

The shock of a bucketful of cold water hitting Jensen’s face and chest sent him lurching up, sputtering and gasping. He screamed as the sudden movement registered with his shoulders, and fell back to the cold wet ground, his whole body shivering in reaction. Blinking the water out of his eyes, sputtering, he tried to locate his tormentor.

The light from one of the lanterns was suddenly blocked as Foldbrook's large form crouched beside him, bucket in hand. “Marshal, what are you doing sleeping on the job when we have so much to do?”

Jensen tried to focus on Foldbrook’s face, but there were two, and sometimes three, of him.

“You don’t seem to like cold water, maybe you’d prefer it if I warm you up a bit?” Foldbrook mused, and even dazed as he was, Jensen could hear the madness in the were’s voice.

Foldbrook rose to his feet and started to pull on the chain connected to Jensen's cuffs. He was unable to bite back a scream of agony as Foldbrook began to hoist him back into the air by his wrists. He must have passed out at some point, because the next thing he knew, Foldbrook was standing in front of him, a frenzied gleam in his eyes as he ran a big hunting knife lightly over Jensen’s chest.

Dripping and weak as a wet kitten, he could barely lift his head to focus on Foldbrook. Blearily, Jensen tried to glare at the man, his whole body shaking in reaction to the pain and fever coursing through it.

“Not so big and tough now, are you, Marshal? But then, you weren’t so big and tough back then in the shed, either. Certainly not when you were begging for us to stop. And now that you’ve had a taste of a real man, I’m sure you’ll never go back.” Foldbrook ran his hand tenderly along Jensen’s jaw. “Now, if I’d only got to you first, you’d be mine, eager and willing, begging for knot, not the abomination you are. But we can fix that,” Foldbrook stepped back and flipped open the button on his jeans and slowly unzipped them. He pulled his already half hard cock out of his pants and spit on the leaking mushroom head. “With enough practice, baby, you’ll learn. I’ll teach you.” Foldbrook spun Jensen, dangling from his chained hands, and pulled him in close, his cock rutting suggestively up against Jensen’s ass. “Because you and me, Marshal, we got nothin’ but time.”

* * *

 

**Dylan — 8:00 a.m.**

Kim pulled up next to the Wired Bean and glanced over at Dylan in the passenger seat. “Okay, here we are.” She smiled tiredly. “Do you want me to go in with you, introduce you?”

Dylan shook his head, squeezing his fingers tight around the strap of his backpack. He looked out from the truck, through the big plate glass window, there was a giant of a man standing on a counter behind the bake case, on his tiptoes, filling out the menu for the day.

Kim leaned over beside him and peered out the window. “That’s Jared, there. He knows you’re coming, but, just so you know, he’s not too happy about it. Thinks he’s fine on his own…but he’s not.” Kim’s smile faltered and Dylan’s expression darkened.

Great, just great, he thought, playing babysitter wasn’t exactly his idea of saving Jensen to begin with, but now, doing it for a giant who didn’t even want him there. His lips tightened together mulishly and he tossed his head, so his hair hung over his eyes.

With a knowing look, Kim brushed his hair aside, patiently explaining, “I know it’s not glamorous, but it’s really important to all of us. What if Jeff were missing and I was left alone to cope? Jared is Jensen’s mate. He’s worried, and it may not seem like it right now, but this will be a huge help. I’ll call you later tonight and see how things are going. You’ve got your pajamas though, right?”

Unable to trust himself not to say something he’d regret, Dylan simply nodded again, and climbed out of the truck. He’d done worse in the past for a lot less, in order to keep a roof over his head for a night, or a warm meal in his belly. He knew the score, nothing was for free, not even his place in the pack. He could babysit a giant. He’d do this for Jensen, no one else.

With a lighter heart, he tugged his knapsack on over his shoulder. He shook his head, letting his hair hang down over his eyes as he looked through the window and watched Jared writing on the big board, watched how the man’s hand shook ever so slightly as he wrote out the menu. How frequently he stopped and looked away.

Dylan hadn’t really thought much about the idea of Jensen having a mate and the special bond that was supposed to mean. He wasn’t quite used to the whole idea of mating for life, or for that matter, it being two dudes who were mated. But if Jensen was cool with it, Jared must be a pretty good guy. His wolf, whose presence in Dylan’s head was somewhat erratic and unpredictable, suddenly made its presence known and growled his approval.

“Dylan,” Kim’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts.

He looked back at her, tossing his hair back again, and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Thanks for taking this on, hon. Jeff and I, we know this whole thing has been hard for you, but we appreciate it. Jared is dear to us.”

The unfamiliar sensation of guilt curled Dylan’s belly and he forced himself to shrug nonchalantly and give Kim a smile, waving as she pulled away from the curb. She was off for the day to deliver meals and to log reports from weres covering far flung sectors on the sheriff's grid. Focusing on his own assignment, he put on his game face and pushed open the door of the Wired Bean. His wolf did somersaults at all the delicious and robust scents inside the shop. Fresh perked coffee as well as coffee beans of a dozen varieties, and pastries of all descriptions competed with more savory smelling sandwiches and ready to go meals.

And the place was full, too, almost every seat and booth in the surprisingly trendy café taken, and not just with hipster wannabe’s, but with hardworking folks in overalls and jeans. The Wired Bean was clearly a go-to location in this dry little one horse town

Stepping up to the counter, he waited until Jared noticed him. He could smell an unfamiliar spicy scent in the air that had nothing to do with the baked goods on display. When Jared finally sensed him and turned, his black apron was covered in a rainbow of chalk colours and Dylan snorted in surprise, a begrudging smile curling the ends of his mouth.

Jared hopped down from the counter and Dylan had to look up, and up, and up. Wow, the man was even bigger up close than he'd looked from the window.

With a slight smirk on his face, as though he knew what Dylan was thinking, Jared finally said, “So you’d be Dylan?” Jared’s voice was warm and deep and seemed to wrap Dylan in a warm hug. He could see why Jensen would like the man, right off. “Jensen says good things about you. You want to pick a booth to study in? I can bring you some hot chocolate and a snack, or something.”

Dylan watched Jared’s expression go from welcoming to stricken at the mention of Jensen’s name. Dylan swallowed around the suddenly huge lump in his throat as he witnessed Jared’s obvious distress and said simply, “Nah, I’m not here to study, I’m here to help.”

Though it was slightly watery, Jared tried to smile. “Help, huh? What can you do?”

“Well I could help with that menu board. I don’t want to be mean, but it’s not looking so good.”

Jared barked out a half choked laugh as he glanced over his shoulder at the board. “Yeah you might be right, it’s not my best work. But who says you can do any better?” The big omega looked him up and down skeptically.

“Well I’m pretty good at art. I like drawing, I could show you my sketchbook?” Dylan offered reaching toward his backpack.

Jared crossed his arms, pursing his lips as he looked him over. Dylan counted the heartbeats, suddenly eager to have this man’s approval.

“Okay, show me what you got, tiger.”

 

Two hours later Dylan’s arm was aching but the menu board looked awesome, even if he said so himself. He’d put in all the text Jared wanted. He’d had to stand on an extra milk crate on top of the counter to reach all the way to the top, but he’d done it, and now he was adding some extra flourishes to the sides of the menu.

“That’s looking great.” Jared came to stand behind him, and put his hands on Dylan's shoulders. “What are you doing now?”

“Thought I’d add a robot cappuccino machine making a coffee over here on the side, if that’s okay?”

“You can do that?”

Dylan glanced back, Jared’s eyes were shining with pride as he looked over the cleaned up menu, and he had a clean black apron on, now and with the chalk dust washed away, some of the wrinkles on his forehead had left, also. As they stood there, a young guy, only a couple of years older than Dylan, walked up beside them as he tied on a fresh black Wired Bean apron and eyed Dylan's creation critically.

Dylan inhaled discreetly, the guy was human, and from the confident way he moved behind the counter, must work here. Preparing himself for the worst, Dylan schooled his features to show no reaction. Jared might be forced to say nice things because he was an adult, and pack, but this guy his own age would be acting under no such restriction.

“Gotta say, his looks better than yours, Jay, with half the chalk dust you make.” He grinned at Dylan and stretched out his hand, “Hi! I’m Tyler Johnston. Welcome to the Wired Bean. You gonna be taking over the menu full time?”

And just like that, Dylan was one of them.

: : :

**Jim — 9:30 a.m.**

It was nine thirty in the morning and Jim had been checking off the grids they’d just finished searching, when the phone rang. “Beaver here.” Jim dropped his grease pencil and grabbed up the phone, answering even before the receiver reached his ear. He hoped Jeff might have some more information for them to go on.

“So, I’ve been trying to call Jensen. Have you got him on some errand so far out in the sticks he can’t pick up his phone?” William’s laconic voice spilled out over the line.

Jim chewed on his lip for all of a half second before blurting out, “Jensen’s been missing since Monday night. It’s early yet, but we think he’s been kidnapped.”

“I’m on my way.”

: : :

Losing no time, Williams grabbed the next available flight to Montana, arriving at the closest airport, in Bozeman. Beaver offered to have one of his officers meet him at the airport, but Williams turned him down. “No, your men know the area, they’re far more useful on the ground searching for Jensen than playing Drivin’ Miss Daisy with me. I’ll rent a car and get there as soon as I can. I’m pretty sure even a city boy like me can find the Sheriff’s Department.”

Jim hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. It was playing with fire having a Captain from the Division here in the Gorge. There was always the chance he could call in more marshals. And more marshals would put Munter’s Gorge under the kind of scrutiny that could get them all locked up. He sighed in resignation. It couldn’t be helped. Williams had gotten into the habit of calling almost every day, and if he found out later that Jim had been lying to him, things could potentially get much worse.

Besides, he was sick of arguing. He’d already had a huge argument with Jared the previous evening.

“Where should I start looking? Where do you want me?” Jared impatiently pushed his hair back behind his ears. The big man had been pacing back and forth in the kitchen the entire time Jim had been there.

“Jared, you’re making me dizzy, son. Sit down, please.” Jim had pleaded.

Jared sank onto one of the kitchen bar stools beside Jim and reached for his long abandoned coffee cup. Jim knew with all his pent up anxiety, fiddling with the cup was simply something for him to do with those big hands. “Now, you have to listen to me, Jay. I know this is gonna suck balls, and on any normal day your help would be more than welcome, but you can’t join in the hunt.”

Jared’s mouth opened to protest and his hand squeezed reflexively around the handle of his coffee mug. Jim feared it might shatter right there under the force of that giant grip.

Jim rushed to hold up his hand. “Wait, listen to me here, son, hear me out. Jeff’s got your people all over the remote areas, and my deputies are sweeping the sites closer to town. But we've got a complication. Jensen’s Captain won’t hear about this and just stand idly by. He could well bring the whole wrath of the Division down upon our heads, and the very worst thing that could happen is that Jensen’s grieving boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. I need you out in front of the public, making sandwiches and coffee for the search teams. I don’t need an extra were in the woods that bad."

Jared looked angrily away, the ceramic mug creaking in distress. “You want to stake me out like a goat to distract Jensen’s Division buddy? Jesus, Jim!”

“And you’ll be damn happy to do it. Do you think I like this? Do you? Do you think I like Jensen being held captive by a potential nut-bar? No, of course not. But we have to suck it up and do the best we can. Now for my part, I’m going to try and sweet talk Williams and show him we got this covered.” Jim turned Jared, so that he was facing him, squeezing his arms for emphasis, “And you, son, are going to act your part, knowing you’re keeping the whole town safe by doing it. That’s the most important thing in the world you can do for Jensen right now. So that when we get him back, and as God is my witness, we will get him back, he’ll have a town to come back to. You got me?”

Eyes swollen and red with unshed tears, Jared had nodded sullenly. Jim folded him in to his chest, hugging the trembling man. “We’ll find him, son. I promise you, we’re doing everything in our power to find him.”

**Jim —10:00 a.m.**

Shelly stuck her head in the door, jarring Jim away from his thoughts. “Ten o’clock, boss. They’re all waiting for you.” Glancing at the clock, Jim saw it was indeed ten. He’d been going since early last night, and had lost track of time. “Right. Thanks, Shel. I'll be right with ya.”

Everyone was assembled in the bullpen, a few spilling over into the adjacent lobby. It was the only area of the department that could accommodate all the deputies at once. The walls of the bullpen were full of maps carefully marked into grids, and green check boxes were starting to fill the map as both his deputies and the Iron Ridge Pack searchers checked in. On another map, all the crank call locations had been pinpointed and a one hour perimeter drawn out from each location to see if there was a common spot Foldbrook and Winters, or whoever the hell their ‘crank caller’ was, could be retreating to.

Nothing significant had come from it yet, but Jim knew that good police work was ninety percent grunt work and ten percent luck, so he’d cover all the bases.

“Just a quick update: I think we’re all aware that one of our own, Deputy Jensen Ackles, has been kidnapped. The only evidence we have at the moment points to two former members of the Iron Ridge settlement, Evan Foldbrook and Nathan Winters. But our ‘crank caller’ could also be someone else, so we need to keep our eyes open for anything or anyone unusual around town. I know this doesn’t really help narrow it down, all we can do is our best. For now, our money is on the former Iron Ridge members. Foldbrook is thirty-five years old, six foot two, blue eyes, dark hair, two hundred and fifty pounds. He’s no wallflower. He’s been known to be violent, and was expelled from the community because of those tendencies. And Winters is six foot, pale hair and pale blue eyes, a slight build, topping out at two hundred.” Jim frowned, Jeff had told him the truth about Foldbrook and Winters and what they had done to Jensen. Jim wanted to make sure his men were aware of the depth of the threat the men posed.

“We’re coordinating our search with the Iron Ridge community. I’ve assigned them some of the more remote cabins and mine shafts, but I’d like us to visit as many of those as we can, that are near town. If Foldbrook and Winters have been placing these crank calls, they've had to have somewhere nearby that they could scuttle back to. I want to know where.” Jim scowled, “But I want you all to go out in pairs. We’re talking about two big men with even bigger grudges, and a potential hostage. No one travels alone. I want to believe Jensen’s still alive, but we have the best chance of finding him if we travel in pairs. I don’t want to lose anyone else today.”

Jim ran his hands through his thinning hair. “Now, a heads up. A captain from the Hunters' Division, and a good friend of Jensen’s, is coming here within the next couple of hours. I need all of you to be extra careful you don’t let anything slip. I’ll assign human deputies to Williams' escort, but be careful of what comes out of your yaps from here on in. It’s the Iron Ridge Community. Says so right over the big map. Remember it. And put your gloves on. The marshal’s gloves have silver in them, so does his gun, and his shield. We want to button this up fast and neat so no one else from the Division ends up sniffing around here. Now git, I know you all know what you’re doing. Just be careful out there doin’ it.”

* * *

**Jensen — the mine**

Exhaling a shuddering breath, Jensen hung grimly onto the fact that it should be over soon. Dizzy with fever, he had been hanging there being mauled and pinched and petted by Foldbrook for well over an hour, and the man’s knot was finally starting to soften. Foldbrook’s arms were wrapped tightly around Jensen’s chest as the man played with Jensen’s nipples, twisting and pulling the tender nubs until he forced a whimper past Jensen’s dry, cracked lips.

Jensen could hear the satisfied grin in Foldbrook’s voice as he murmured, “Mmm, You know I love it when you beg. But all you needed to do was ask, baby.” Foldbrook released Jensen’s abused nipple and spit into his palm.

Jensen’s mind went blank then as understanding blossomed, he started to thrash and moan, his scream shot voice incapable of speech. He started to shake his head in protest, but the room spun sickeningly as Foldbrook’s spit slick hand reached to cup Jensen’s uninterested cock, rubbing his rough, dirty fingers over Jensen’s sensitive flesh. Jensen flinched in pain, the spit a poor lubricant, and his body in too much pain to respond. Foldbrook only leaned in and nibbled around Jensen’s neck, avoiding the infected bite as he started to rock back and forth inside Jensen again, mumbling and cursing into Jensen’s ear. Jensen moaned in defeat as the man’s knot started to swell again.

“Feel me baby? Nice big knot filling my boy. You like that, right?” Foldbrook panted into Jensen’s ear, his hand gripping Jensen more tightly, letting Jensen take more of his weight. Dimly he heard the beam above him creak ominously, and then a crack, but Foldbrook was too caught up in his own pleasure to notice. Jensen’s mouth opened in a silent scream, his only response as Foldbrook started to strip up and down Jensen’s cock. God it hurt, maybe more than the pain in Jensen’s ripped and torn hole. Foldbrook continued to jack him, and Jensen took grim satisfaction in the fact that his cock stayed resolutely limp. Unperturbed, Foldbrook turned his attention to Jensen’s knot, squeezing it painfully between his fingers.

Jensen wobbled in his chains as pain sparked through his body. His vision dimmed, but Foldbrook’s grip relented before he passed out. The man ran his fingers over Jensen’s knot, scraping his fingernail over the firmer flesh. “I’m impressed, Marshal, you’ve still got a lot of fight in ya. But that don’t make for a good bitch.” Foldbrook’s fingers reached down and cupped Jensen’s balls thoughtfully. “I wonder, if we cut these off, would you make for a better slut? It works in cattle and dogs. Don’t see why it wouldn’t work for a man or a were.”

Jensen let out a wheezing gasp of protest.

“Ah, don’t be like that. Would settle you, calm you down some, Marshal. Next time, I’ll bring my tools.”

No strength left, Jensen couldn’t even force out a moan, his head lolling forward on his chest in defeat as Foldbrook started to rut into him again. Mercifully, before Foldbrook could work up a head of steam, he passed out.

* * *

: : :

Comments always appreciated ^^


	15. The Forge — Sharp Teeth

 

 

 

NOTE: This chapter contains graphic captive torture and scenes dealing with Jensen. Each begins and ends with* * * if you wish to skip over.

: : :

**Dylan — 1:30 p.m.**

Dylan was surprised to find he loved working at the coffee shop. Tyler was great at explaining things and started him off easy, bussing tables and refilling the milk and cream carafes at the take-out station and salt and pepper shakers from the tables. His nose twitched every time he smelled a were and he couldn’t help glancing up at who had just come in. He couldn’t quite get over how easily the people of Munter’s Gorge intermixed, and who was and wasn’t a were. There was Charlie Coxal and Dan Smith, the lively octogenarians firmly ensconced in the corner booth playing chess. Tyler said they played almost every day, and it wasn’t Dan, with the grizzly beard and flyaway hair that was the were, it was Charlie, the more dignified looking of the pair, with his gold rimmed spectacles, neatly trimmed goatee, trendy khakis, and pink checkered shirt. Who knew weres might need glasses?

He wasn’t sure if everyone was quite aware of who they were rubbing shoulders with, but he could detect no sense of fear or threat from either the human patrons or the weres who came in for their double latte’s and half-caf cappuccinos.

He made a point of being there for Jared whenever he could. Lifting bags of flour, or loading the washer. He was sure Jared was aware of what he was doing, but the big were said nothing. It was just the times Dylan caught him gazing out the window with a fearful look in his eyes that he knew how worried Jared was.

By two o’clock, Jared’s shift was over and he and Dylan said goodbye to Tyler, who was being joined by Marcy, another human, who would look after the shop until closing at eight.

Tyler fist bumped him after Dylan hung up his apron. “Good job, man. You didn’t break anything, and you were definitely starting to get the hang of things. I think you’ll fit in great here. Good hire, Jay-man.”

“Yeah, he did good.” Jared smiled fondly at them both, not bothering to correct Tyler on his assumption. “Stay safe.” Jared slapped Tyler on the back as they headed out. Dylan waved goodbye, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. The idea of making this a full time gig, maybe after school once he started there, was really appealing. He’d have to talk to Jared once things settled down, after this whole mess was cleared up.

They walked along in companionable silence. Dylan didn’t know how far they had to go, but Jared seem preoccupied with his own thoughts and Dylan didn’t want to intrude. When they slowed in front of small brick apartment building, Dylan realized they’d reached their destination.

The hallway had exposed brick, and Dylan let his fingers trace over the bumpy surface as they climbed the stairs to Jared's apartment on the top floor — one of two. There were only two apartments on each floor. Dylan couldn’t scent any weres other than Jared, and if he inhaled deeply, he thought he could pick up Jensen’s scent, too, and both were faint. So Jared hadn’t been using his apartment lately. Huh…

Jared invited him into a small but tastefully furnished apartment. Looking out the big window on one living room wall, he saw that Jared’s place faced the street.

“Make yourself at home.”

Dylan glanced at Jared as he pulled off his beanie and hung up his coat, dropping a white bag of food he’d brought from the Wired Bean on the counter. His defenses down inside the safety of his own home, Jared looked absolutely haggard, reminding Dylan again of why he was here.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you look tired, Jared. Why don’t you take a nap or something? Chill out.”

“S’okay, I’ll live,” Jared chuckled wearily. “I’m just worried, you know? Hey, I'm going to go grab a shower, then cook us up some dinner. Spaghetti okay with you? I brought salad from the Bean.”

Dylan nodded. He tossed his own coat over a chair and went immediately to Jared’s bookcase. There were rows of art books on different painters and photographers, Dylan glanced at Jared before touching, “S’okay if I...?”

“Sure, man. There’s pop in the fridge and chips in the cupboard beside it. Help yourself. Oh, and I’m expecting Taylor to drop Aaron off, so if the doorbell rings buzz them in, okay?”

“Sure, will do.” Dylan went back to the bookcase and soon became lost in several books on architecture and one especially on steampunk art. Jared had some rad taste in art, and he could easily see applying the steampunk style to a new chalk theme on the menu board. He pulled his sketchpad out of his knapsack and started to draw.

The doorbell buzzed while Jared was still in the shower, so Dylan answered. “Hullo?”

“Hi there, is this Dylan? I’m Taylor. I’m here to drop off Aaron.”

“Okay, come on up.” Dylan leaned on the buzzer, listening until he could hear steps coming up the stairs.

A dark haired woman in her thirties reached the landing, and came toward the door. Dylan straightened a little from his slouch and stepped back to let her in. Under her arm was a cute puppy.

“Oh, is this Aaron?” Dylan had never had a dog, but he had always wanted one, growing up. “Can I pet him?” he looked up at Taylor and she smiled, her intensely blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and handed Aaron over to him.

He held the puppy under its front paws suspended in the air in front of him and looked into his eyes — which were also a pretty blue. “I’m Dylan," he told the pup. "And I think we’re going to be friends.”

Aaron yipped, and Dylan cuddled him in close.

“Is Jared around?” Taylor asked, reaching out to tickle Aaron under the chin. And was that an odd name for a puppy or what? Dylan thought, but kept that to himself.

“He’s taking a shower, but he told me to expect you.”

“Oh, okay. Does he seem alright?”

Dylan shrugged as Aaron snuffled and licked at his neck and jaw. “Yeah, he’s okay, I guess. Just tired, and not too happy.”

“Well, tell him we’re all doing everything we can for him. I’m on shift tonight, helping out with meals and relaying messages. Tell Jared, so far I’m still on schedule to pick up Aaron in the morning like we planned.” Taylor started to leave, then paused at the door. “And how are you doing, Dylan? Settling into pack life? I know it can be hard. I wasn’t always a were, my husband turned me…at my request. It was still quite the adjustment.”

Dylan squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable, his gaze skittering to the big window at the front of the apartment. He shrugged indifferently, not wanting to appear weak. “S’okay, I mean it’s different, you know…Kim and Jeff seem cool.”

Taylor smiled at him a little sadly. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here, and I know where you’re coming from. Consider it an open invitation.”

“Ah… thanks.” Dylan shifted from one foot to the other, unsure what else to say.

Taylor seemed to get it and blew a kiss at Aaron, “Bye, honey. See you in the morning. Be good for Dylan and Uncle Jared.”

As the door closed, Dylan tucked Aaron under his arm and headed back to the sofa and his book on steampunk art. “Your owner is weird.” Aaron yipped, as if in agreement. “Want to see some cool stuff?” Aaron wriggled happily in Dylan’s lap as he picked up the book again and continued to leaf through the pages.

**Jeff — 3:00 p.m.**

It took Jeff longer than he’d hoped to get his search crews organized and the whole pack looped in. By the time he was able to finally hand everything off to Kim and get on the road, it was well past three o’clock. Jeff hoped the more than three hours' drive out of town and past the Iron Ridge settlement to get to Michaels' farm would be worth it.

As the miles ticked by, Jeff tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel impatiently. Michaels had been the only pack member brought before the tribunal who had had someone speak on his behalf. His mom had spoken passionately on what a good son he’d been, that he had just fallen in with the wrong crowd. Normally, Jeff wasn’t one to fall for such a hard luck story, but Michaels didn’t come across as a bad guy. In fact, after his punishment, he was the only former member of Pellegrino's crew that stayed in town and tried to do right by the pack. After the Tribunal, the others had made themselves scarce, which was fine by Jeff. He didn’t need bullies and thugs in his pack.

He wanted to talk to the young man about Foldbrook and Winters. He was one of the only ones left who might have any insight on the men and their habits.

* * *

**Jensen — the mine**

When Jensen came to again, his body jerking and shivering with fevered chills, Foldbrook was gone. Every part of his abused and battered body hurt, as even his Wolf’s healing abilities weren't able to keep pace with the damage Foldbrook was inflicting. Jensen shuddered as he recalled Foldbrook’s parting promise to geld him. His chest tightened in panic and he struggled against his restraints. At least his feet weren’t chained to the log below anymore, only to each other. Jensen shuddered at the memory of Foldbrook wanting better ‘access’.

He blinked, trying to clear his mind. He couldn’t just wait here for Foldbrook to return and mutilate him. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. Jensen started to twist his body. The pain in his shoulders and wrists was nearly unbearable, but he kept it up. He heard a loud creak again, and remembered how the timber support had seemed to give a little, before. Glancing up, Jensen could see that a wide crack had started in the beam where the hoist to his chained hands was attached.

He briefly studied the series of beams holding up the tunnel's roof, and realized he was taking a chance on burying himself alive, but he didn’t care. It was better than waiting here to be castrated by a lunatic. He tried to bounce up and down, and black dots appeared before his eyes. Desperate for another approach, he started to swing, in hope the weight of his body would weaken the beam further.

It took a while to set his body in motion like a pendulum, and he was almost ready to give up when the beam creaked ominously. Jensen glanced wildly around. He didn’t know how long he had before Foldbrook’s return. Biting his lip, and using the pain to keep himself conscious, Jensen moved his weight to help widen his pendulum swing. He was about at his strength's end when there was a louder crack, and the beam broke, bringing the whole thing down.

He was at the furthest point of his arc when the beam and support brace fell. The parting of the two weights snapped his chain, and he hit the dirt floor rolling, desperate to evade the falling timbers.

Jensen squeezed his eyes closed, turtling up as tight as he could as dust and debris filled the cave. As it settled, he was amazed to realize the tunnel hadn’t collapsed, as he had feared. The fall had only thrown one end of the overhead timber into the still burning fire, and the other support to lie along the tunnel wall. Jensen was still chained, but his chains were no longer tethered.

Something like hope began to bloom in Jensen's chest as he dragged his battered body down the tunnel in the direction Foldbrook had left. If there was a chance he could make it to the exit before the were returned, he had to try. The other choice was dying in this hole, because even in his feverish daze, Jensen knew he was dying. The black lines radiating from the unhealed mess of Foldbrook's bite were vivid proof, and they were rapidly creeping farther into unmarked flesh. He wondered what would happen when they reached his heart.

* * *

**Jeff — 6:00 p.m.**

Pulling his truck into Michaels’ yard, Jeff glanced at his watch and swore softly, it was almost six o’clock. He made a quick call to Kim to check on the status of the search before making his way to the house.

Kim had ended the call by reminding him, “No, no news so far. Now, I hope I don’t have to remind you, JD, to go easy on the boy. From all accounts he was just looking for some extra work to help out with the bills. And he had a spotless record, before he got mixed up with Pellegrino.”

“I’ll do my best, you know I will, but my first priority as Alpha has to be Jensen. If I hurt the boy's feelings getting to information that might help us find Jensen alive, I can live with that.” He smiled into the receiver when he heard Kim’s exasperated sigh, “But I’ll try to leave him in one piece.”

 

Walking up to the main house, Jeff glanced around at the farm. After Michaels' dad had suffered a heart attack, both of his parents had retired and moved into town. John had stayed, and was trying to make a go of the small family sheep farm. Jeff took note of the neatly fenced fields and the clean-looking flock, and the fact that the barn was recently repainted. It was more than a few points in the kid’s favor that he was so hard working. Jeff knew how much work a place like this could be, and so far, Michaels hadn’t asked for any extra help from the pack

He realized with no small amount of guilt that this would be the first time he’d seen the were since he completed the Tribunal’s punishment. He had meant to drop in on the young were sooner, make sure he was on the right path. Alienating a pack member after his punishment was over was a sure way to create even more radicals like Foldbrook.

 

“Alpha!” Michaels stammered, his eyes widening with alarm when he first opened the front door and saw Jeff standing there.

“Michaels.” Jeff kept his voice stern. He didn’t have much time, and if playing tough, mean Alpha kept John Michaels a little off kilter and encouraged him to answer Jeff's questions faster, he would play that card.

“Come in, Alpha. I hope I haven’t done anything wrong. When I got your call I…” Michaels backed up into the small living room. It was just past six at night, and Michaels had dinner on a tray in front of the television.

“Remains to be seen, now doesn’t it?” Jeff knew he was acting the prick, but he needed answers.

“I-I’ve kept up with my parole obligations, and checked in regularly. And I–I’ve stayed clear of Pellegrino’s whole crew. I don’t know what else…?”

“You’ve heard that Marshal Ackles is missing.” It wasn't a question. Jeff stepped into the room and Michaels stumbled back. Jeff kept moving forward, crowding the young man back into the room.

Michaels went a paler shade of white. “I–I had nothing to do with it, I swear.”

“But you may know who did.”

Michael’s Adam’s apple bobbed, “People are saying Foldbrook and Winters did it, but I haven’t had any contact with them, honest. Ask my mom, she knows. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Michael’s voice was nearly a wail.

“But you may know where they’re holed up, some spot Pellegrino preferred, that no one else knows about. Do you, Michaels? Now’s the time to speak up, son, or at the next Tribunal, you could be shunned, too.”

Michaels flinched and his eyes were wide as sweat beaded on his upper lip. Jeff was certain now that the man knew something. He took another step and Michaels continued to retreat until he bumped up against the living room wall.

“There-there was a place where I heard Pellegrino liked to keep his drugs,” Michaels stammered, his eyes widening in fear.

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up. Pellegrino was into drugs, too? Pot and heroin didn’t have much effect on weres' faster metabolism, but there was still a whole human market at the Gorge that Pellegrino could have taken advantage of. “The bastard,” Jeff swore, shaking his head, his hands on his hips.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it, I swear! I just overheard Foldbrook and Winters talking about it. It scared me, actually. And all I really wanted was some extra cash to buy things for the farm, not to get involved in anything like that, honest. I just, he was Alpha….”

“It’s okay, son.” Jeff took pity on the man and leaned in, using his alpha voice. “So, where would they hide the drugs?”

Michaels stiffened, words tumbling out of his mouth in his rush to obey. “I was never there, they just bragged on it being right under everyone’s nose, but I have no idea where, though. That’s all I know, honest. I wish I could help you more, Alpha.”

Jeff inhaled deeply, he could scent no deception coming off the man. Michaels was telling the truth “It’s alright son, I believe you. And, you’ve given me a lead. There can’t be too many places Pellegrino could have access to that are close to town.” Stepping out of Michaels’ space, Jeff finally allowed his expression to soften. He gestured out toward the yard, “You got a nice little spread here, all the hard work you put into it really shows.”

If possible Michaels eyes went even wider as he breathed out, a relieved, “Thank you, Alpha.”

“Look forward to seeing you around, son. Don’t be a stranger.” Jeff nodded as he turned and exited the house.

Jeff’s mind was going a million miles a second as he walked back to his truck. So Pellegrino had a bolthole near town. The only property Jeff knew Winters had was his house at the settlement, and Foldbrook had rented a room from Pellegrino. Quickly combing through what he knew about Pellegrino's family, Jeff recalled he’d had a grandmother, Stella Soams, who’d been a noted healer in the pack. She had lived just outside of town, but the old farmstead had been empty and falling down since Jeff was a child. Thinking back, he also remembered stories about a great uncle who had run liquor during prohibition. Then it all clicked. He punched the steering wheel repeatedly, resisting the urge to howl in frustration. He knew in his gut where Foldbrook's and Winters’ hiding place was. Too much added up for it not to be. Jensen had been right there in town, almost under their noses, the whole time. Pulling himself together, he hit speed dial. He was too far away to do anything himself, he needed help.

“Beaver here.” The steady background hum of activity at the station had died down, with most of Jim’s officers out on search, or taking turns for supper. Jeff imagined Jim had put in as hectic a day at the station as he had at his makeshift headquarters at the house.

“Jim, it's Jeff. I may have a caught a break in the case. I think think it’s definitely Foldbrook and Winters we’re dealing with. And I think I know where they are holding Jensen.”

“The hell you say? We could sure use some good news, here. What did you find out?”

“He’s right there, in town. He’s been there under our noses all the time…”

* * *

**Jensen — the mine**

“And where do you think you’d be going, Marshal?”

Foldbrook’s hand was in Jensen’s hair, pulling his head back. Jensen realized he’d passed out as he’d crawled in his shackles along the tunnel.

Foldbrook rolled him onto his back with pitiful ease and Jensen closed his eyes, fighting to hold back the scream as the bones in his dislocated shoulder ground against each other.

“What, you don’t like it here, Marshal? Too cold for you?” Foldbrook glanced down the tunnel at the burning beam. “I see you stoked the fire before you tried to leave. How considerate. That means I can fix you right up.”

Foldbrook let go of Jensen’s head and grabbed the chain still connected to his manacles and started to drag him. A scream, a guttural unearthly howl ripped from him as he was hauled back every inch of the way he had crawled. It was a pitifully short distance, and before he knew it they were back beside the fire and Foldbrook dropped his chain. He lay there panting, black spots floating in front of his eyes, staring at the ceiling, too dizzy and weak to move. He heard Foldbrook set down his knapsack and return with a hammer and spike.

Jensen’s heart was hammering like a drum, but Foldbrook only set his tools down and rolled Jensen’s body toward the fire. Jensen tried to struggle but lacked the strength to resist as Foldbrook plunged his feet into the hot coals at the edge of the fire pit.

He screamed, and tried to roll away, instinctively curling his feet up higher to pull them out of the fire but with a cruel smile, Foldbrook simply stepped down on his leg. Pinned helplessly in place, he could only writhe and twist and turn in agony as his flesh burnt.

“Feeling warmer now Marshal?” Foldbrook asked, over Jensen’s gasping cries.

Jensen tossed his head weakly as the skin on his feet blistered; his were healing abilities actually protracted the agony as his body tried to heal nerve endings, only to have them seared over again, repeatedly.

Foldbrook laughed and removed his foot, allowing Jensen to curl his mutilated legs away from the fire, sobbing in a perversion of relief and gratitude. Foldbrook kicked some dirt over the burns and then crouched beside him, hands cupping his elbows, a sadistic smile on his face.

“You can’t win, Marshal. I have you exactly where I want you.” Foldbrook grinned and poked his knife into the burnt flesh of Jensen’s calf.

Jensen screamed as the point of the blade pierced his blackened skin.

“And now I don’t think you’re in any condition to run.”

Lost in a miasma of misery and pain, Jensen barely registered when Foldbrook pulled him further back from the fire. At the smell of his own charred flesh, he dimly remembered trying to throw up, dry heaving, and then laying there by the fire, barely able to breathe for the pain, his messed up shoulders and legs a throbbing mass of agony.

Foldbrook returned and pushed a water bottle to his mouth. He tipped it to pour some of the water between Jensen’s cracked lips. Jensen gulped it down gratefully; it had been at least a day since he’d had anything to drink. “You rest, now.” Foldbrook said, strangely solicitous after his barbaric attack. “After this little stunt it proves to me the operation is more desperately needed than ever.” The man disappeared only to return a moment later with the hammer and stake in his hands.

By that point Jensen didn’t care if he lived or died, but Foldbrook only staked the fragment of chain still running from his manacled hands to the ground. “I’ll be back in the morning when you’re better. Don’t wander off, now.”

Tossing the hammer off to the side, Foldbrook righted the fallen video camera, refocusing it on Jensen before strolling away down the tunnel. Jensen watched him disappear around the bend. The insanity of Foldbrook thinking he would be better by the morning had Jensen on the edge of hysterical laughter, but only a husked croak made it past his scream shot lips. With the last of his strength, he tugged futilely on his manacles; he was going nowhere.

Dazed, he looked down at the blistered, blacked flesh that used to be his legs and feet. He was in so much pain he could barely breathe. Tears started to leak down his dirt and blood streaked cheeks and he bit down on his lip to keep from making any sound that might bring his tormentor back. He'd never understood how anybody would get to the point of thinking death was a viable option, but he could see now, that pain like this could do it. He remembered how he’d once asked Jared to let him die rather than be turned. He’d been so wildly naïve.

In his present situation, he could only hope he’d be able to die with some kind of dignity, and not completely disgrace himself. Jensen shuddered. He wasn’t sure he had enough strength left to withstand what Foldbrook had in store for him next. He thought about Jared, and what his death would mean to his mate. He hoped Jared could find another mate, in time, but he worried that his omega would rather die than accept another alpha.

He wasn’t sure if rescue was even an option now, if Morgan or Beaver did manage to find him. He had no idea where he was, and there was no way that he could get himself free. His chained hands were folded against his chest, and he looked around for anything to pick the lock, but found nothing. Dully, he noticed the black lines from the bite in his shoulder had crept farther across his chest, inching closer to his heart. Jensen laughed soundlessly. At this rate, he didn’t think he had long. By morning, there might not be a next time in Foldbrook’s torture tour. He could only pray Jared never saw Foldbrook’s home movie of all this.

* * *

Comments always appreciated ^^


	16. The Forge — Sacrifice

 

 

****Jim — 7:00 p.m.** **

“Thank you, sweet Jesus,” Jim breathed out in relief after hanging up the phone with Jeff.

Williams, who had set up camp alongside him in Jim’s office as soon as he’d arrived, set his field reports aside and simply raised an enquiring brow. “Is there news?”

Jim smiled, rubbing his beard in disbelief. “We finally got a real lead on this, and we need to get over there, now.”

“I’m coming with you. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Jim squinted at Williams. He had a bad feeling about bringing the captain along, but he also knew he had no jurisdiction to stop him. Even if he did, the pushy bastard would just jump in his rental and follow him.

“Okay, but you’re to stay back. I don’t want you shot by accident and me blamed for a marshal getting hurt.”

“That sounds a bit like you care about me, Sheriff,” Williams teased, his eyes closed to half slits as he watched Jim.

Flustered, Jim sputtered lamely, “Oh, you wish.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Williams said serenely as grabbed up his coat and Stetson and brushed past Jim into the hallway. “You comin’?”

“What the Sam-hell?” Jim muttered, as a totally inappropriately timed coil of heat flashed through him when Williams' hard chest rubbed over his. “Is it suddenly hot in here, or what?” he muttered to himself as he swapped out his ammo for silver. As a hunter, Williams was already packing silver, so no worry about him.

Shelly leaned her head out from her desk and glanced pointedly down the hall to where Williams waited impatiently for Jim to finish strapping on his bulletproof vest. “Right off the top, I’d go with ‘or what’,” she chirped dryly before a mischievous smile spread across her face.

“What the hell are you smilin’ at?” Jim scolded, before stomping down the hall.

“You finally ready, darlin’?” In spite of his teasing tone, Williams' expression was one of determination as he held the door open for the sheriff.

Jim could feel his blush spreading and, flustered by all the unwanted attention, he grumbled, “Just get in the damn car.” He turned and called out to the two officers who were taking a supper break at the station, “Boyd, Henry, you’re with me. Shelly, have every available cruiser meet us at the Soams’ farm, code two. We got a lead that Foldbrook and Winters might be hiding out there. We’re going in lights and sirens off, I don't want anything to spook them. We’re going to get this bastard.”

The Soams family farm was only five minutes out of town. It had been handed down to Pellegrino through his mother’s people, but with Mark living with the pack at the Iron Ridge settlement, it had stood empty for years. That was one of the reasons neither Jeff nor Jim had even thought of looking there, the power had been turned off and the old homestead had been tumbling slowly to ruin for as long as they could remember. Now, of course, he realized it had been the perfect cover for Mark’s illicit activities. “I’m a damn idjit,” Jim cursed, slamming the door of his cruiser closed as he got in. “I should'a remembered this place.”

“No use beating yourself up about it, now. We got to get our heads in the game,” Williams said reasonably. “What should I expect?”

A couple of batshit crazy weres with mile wide mouths full of teeth, Jim thought, but chewed on his lip, “The old homestead's over a hundred years old, and falling down. Foldbrook and Winters may be living there, but the real kicker is, Jeff says there’s an abandoned mining tunnel they used years ago to run liquor, and Pellegrino decided to use it to funnel his drugs. My bet is that's where they’ve got Jensen. The entrance to the mine is supposed to be through one of the outbuildings. You and I'll go in there, while the deputies search the house. Anyone arriving later helps search with us.”

Williams nodded, and then on a secure channel, Jim relayed his instructions over the radio to the other officers. It was well past nine when they arrived, and the sun had long since set. Jim knew they’d be at a disadvantage competing with were eyesight in the dark, but at least they had the light of the full moon to make their way by.

They killed the lights on their vehicles and pulled their cruisers in as close as they dared before walking, as a group, the final quarter mile to the Soams’ farm. The two officers, Peter Boyd and Jed Henry, fanned out to take the main house, while Jim and Williams surveyed the three large outbuildings.

“Any guesses?” Williams asked. Jim looked around, cursing himself for not having kept at least one were officer on duty in town. Their noses would be invaluable right now. Squinting in the moonlight, he surveyed the three buildings but nothing particular jumped out about any of them. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Williams' gaze narrowed, and he pointed toward the third and smallest shed. “Now, doesn’t that look like there’s been more traffic to that one than the other two put together? That’s my bet.”

Jim squinted harder and sure enough, through the melting snow, he could see dozens of ruts from tire tracks going in and out of the garage door on the front of the building. “And you said you were a city slicker.” Jim nodded approvingly at Williams. “Let’s do it.” Guns drawn, they moved in.

 

The inside of the shed was a big disappointment, just a space big enough for a truck to park and unload easily inside, and a few cabinets on the wall.

“This can’t be all of it. It’s here somewhere, I can feel it.” Jim grumped and started to open the cabinet doors and tap at the wood siding.

“You’re sounding like an angry woodpecker over there. Is this what you were looking for?” Jim turned to see Williams carefully easing open a secret panel he’d found on the other side of the room.

“Yeah, you would find it. Just great.” Jim grumbled, striding across the space and trying to ignore the smug look Williams wore. They peered into the hidden entrance that led down a long flight of stairs.

“This time it won’t be ladies first,” Jim said, easing in front of Williams before he could protest. Flashlight on, he started down the stairs with Williams on his heels, his flashlight shining over Jim’s shoulder.

At the bottom of the stairs they panned their lights around, and saw boxes stacked against the stone walls. “No need to guess what’s in some of those,” Jim muttered, wrinkling his nose as he panned his light over the ground. The beam caught the edge of the cart rails that the mine used to use. “Bingo. We have our mine.” They both shone their lights down a tunnel that curved off after a few feet.

“So this is where you think he might be?” Steve whispered in his ear.

“I think it’s a fair bet. It’s close to all the false calls, and enough out of the way they could move Jensen here from the church without being noticed. Let’s go.”

The two of them proceeded down the tunnel. After walking a hundred feet or so, the tunnel took a wide curving turn to the right. They were following the tracks when Jim noticed off to their left a smaller secondary tunnel. He almost walked past, but then turned on his heel and headed back to investigate the smaller tunnel. Williams stood by the tracks with his flashlight, “Where you off to, all of a sudden?”

Beaver motioned him to silence as he carefully made his way down the new tunnel. Almost immediately, the tunnel took an abrupt, almost hairpin turn, and widened. Jim quickly stopped, snapping off his flashlight, and Steve, who had followed close behind, grunted as he bumped into him in the dark. “Shush, damn it.” He whispered vehemently.

In the distance they could see the glow of lamps. Jim’s heart rate sped up. He glanced over at Williams, and keeping his voice low, said, “Now what would that be doing here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Let’s go get our boy,” Williams growled, his expression grim.

 

**Dylan — 7:30 p.m.**

Dylan woke up to Aaron licking his face. “Hey, hey! Easy big guy, I’m awake, I’m awake.” The smell of spaghetti sauce filled the little apartment and Dylan’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that it had been a long time since lunch.

He was wresting gently with the small grey pup sitting on his chest when Jared popped his head into the living room. His hair was dry, so Dylan must have been asleep for a while.

“Oh, I see you two are awake. I didn’t have the heart to wake you guys earlier. I know everyone was tired, especially me,” Jared grinned sheepishly, “but I’m sure you’re hungry by now. Come on, supper’s ready.” Dylan set Aaron on the floor and walked groggily to the kitchen where Jared was draining the fresh pasta and sliding it into a bowl.

Belatedly remembering his manners, Dylan offered, “Anything I can do?”

Jared glanced up with a surprised look on his face, “Oh, that would be great.” His brow furrowed a moment as he thought. “How about you set the table and I’ll get the garlic bread out of the oven.” Jared poured tomato sauce into a large bowl, and wiped his fingers on the tea towel. The cloth looked ridiculously small in his large hands.

“Cutlery's in the third drawer on the right. Oh, and Aaron’s bowl is in the cupboard just above, the green dish. Sit him beside me, so I can help him eat.”

Puzzled, Dylan cocked an eyebrow at Jared, but Jared was too busy grabbing the garlic bread to see. Still, was the man nuts? He liked Aaron and all, but it almost sounded like the pup was going to eat with them at the table. Shrugging, he rooted around in the drawers for the cutlery and got the bowl from the cupboard, and started to set the table. The bowl was indeed bright green, and looked more like a child’s plate than a doggie dish, with dinosaurs around the rim.

Jared reached past him to set the pasta in the middle of the table. “Good job.” Smiling, he ruffled Dylan’s hair, and for once, the action didn’t raise Dylan’s hackles. In fact, he wanted to lean into Jared’s warm, reassuring touch.

When everything was on the table, Jared scooped up Aaron, who had been nosing excitedly around the legs of the table, “I know you’re hungry, buddy. Here you go. Remember your manners though.”

Dylan shook his head. This was crazy. He’d had some freaky clients that wanted him to act out stuff, but he’d never seen anyone treat a dog like a person. He cringed as Jared set the dog down on the table, but Aaron only padded around to his place and sat down beside his bowl obediently.

Dylan couldn’t hold back, “You know that’s kind of weird, right?”

Jared looked up, a mildly surprised look on his face as he started to dole out spaghetti onto the three plates. “What’s weird?”

Dylan set down his napkin on the table, “Seriously? Having a dog at your table. I mean he’s a good little guy, but dude, that’s strange.”

Aaron tilted his head at Dylan and growled. Dylan’s eyebrows rose higher. “Whoa. And that’s weird too, it’s almost like he’s pissed at me for saying so.”

“Dylan, I’m so sorry. I thought I’d mentioned it, but I guess I never did, and neither did Taylor. Aaron’s not a dog. He’s a were.”

“What?” Dylan gave Aaron a shocked double take. “But he’s so little. And why doesn’t he shift and eat dinner with us like normal people?”

Aaron yipped and jumped down from the table, and ran into Jared’s bedroom.

“Oh no,” Jared sighed, and started to rise.

“What, what’s going on?” Dylan asked. “What just happened?”

“It’s not your fault. I know you never shifted until you were in your teens but that’s not really normal when you grow up in a were community. You were never shown how, but here, kids shift as young as one and two. But Aaron’s been having problems. I know you’ve had trouble controlling your shifting too, and well, Aaron’s been having the same problem, only in reverse. He’s only three, and he had a bad scare when Jensen, acting as a marshal, arrested his brother and mom and took them into custody. They’re free now, and okay,” Jared rushed to fill in. “But Aaron hasn’t shifted back to his human form in almost four months.”

“Holy cow. I-I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell. Why didn’t I smell the difference?”

“Well a cub's scent is much weaker, it would be easy to miss. He’s just a bit sensitive about not being able to shift and we don’t want to make a big deal of it. We’re all hoping one day he just shifts on his own.” Dylan looked at Jared helplessly, worried now he’d hurt his new little friend’s feelings. Jared squeezed his shoulder gently, “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. I’ll just go talk to him.”

As Jared stood to go, the phone started to ring. A painfully hopeful look crossed his face as he dashed for the phone in the living room. “Hello?” Dylan watched as Jared’s eyes went wide and his normally coppery complexion drained to ashen. “I’m on my way.”

**Dylan — 8:00 p.m.**

Jared set down the phone and stood immobile, looking a little dazed. He started to sit, then faltered, crumpling to the floor in a sprawled mass of legs and arms, his back against the foot of the sofa. His whole body began to shiver, and he tipped back his head as a howl of anguish ripped out of him. Dylan jumped to his feet but then stood, stunned, and afraid to approach the obviously aggrieved man. He needed help, but there was nobody here but him, and Aaron’s shocked little face peeking out from the bedroom door. Realizing he was it, the only one who could help Jared, he shook himself out of his stupor and rushed over.

Jared’s arms were flailing out, grabbing at the sofa cushions and coffee table like a drowning man. He leaned forward, eyes clenched tightly closed and grasped the wood table with both hands like he was anchoring himself against a storm, his breath coming in anxious gasps. Dylan wasn’t sure what just happened, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good. Unable to think of anything else, Dylan simply flung himself at Jared, hugging the man, holding on and whispering what he hoped were reassuring words in the were’s ears. Eventually, Jared’s breathing slowed and the trembling subsided. He scrubbed at his eyes and, blinking rapidly, he tried to focus on Dylan. He started to laugh, but that dissolved into more crying. Dylan simply held him, his thin arms bracketing Jared’s larger frame until the man was finally able to speak.

“They found Jensen but... I–I have to go, now!” Jared’s voice was a low rumble, ragged and broken sounding. Visibly making an effort to pull himself together, Jared leaned in, staring at Dylan like the world depended on his answer, “Can you look after Aaron, Dylan? See that he eats supper, and goes to bed? You can both sleep in my bed tonight. I might not make it back right away. Can you do that?”

Dylan slowly released Jared and knelt up. Him, responsible for Aaron, all on his own? Mute with shock, Dylan nodded. He’d do whatever it took.

Jared hugged him quickly, kissing his cheeks, and Dylan could feel the love and gratitude pouring from the big man. He staggered to his feet and grabbed his coat and beanie, and riffled through the little bowl by the door for car keys. Dylan noticed Aaron had crept out to the living room and he scooped the pup up in his arms. Aaron was shivering, and Dylan kissed the top of his head, right between the ears, as they both watched Jared dash out the door without a backward glance. Aaron whined and looked up plaintively at Dylan. “It’s okay, Aaron. Jared’s going to make things right, save Uncle Jensen.” He only hoped it was true.

**Jared — 8:45 p.m.**

Jared arrived at the Soams farm in record time. There were police lights everywhere. As he pulled up, jumping out of the truck almost before it stopped, Deputy Boyd hailed him from the small shed off to the side. “Jared, over here.”

Running full tilt, Jared reached the door to the shed, his heart hammering. “Down the stairs, follow the flares, but prepare yourself, man. He doesn’t look good. Doc is on her way, but she’s outside of town right now and will be at least a half hour getting here.” Boyd squeezed his arm, pointing his flashlight down the steps for Jared to make his way.

As the earth of the tunnel enclosed him, Jared’s wolf began to whimper; he could sense Jensen through the bond, sense the pain his mate was in. Running headlong through the dark, following the sporadic trail of flares, Jared raced toward his mate.

After he rounded a hard U-turn in the tunnel, he could see light in the distance and scent his mate. “Jensen,” he cried out as his feet pounded closer. There were figures hunched before a fire and as Jared skidded to a stop behind them, he caught his first glimpse of Jensen’s body. Livid bruises, scratches and cuts covered his mate. There was a sickening stink of burnt flesh and Jared looked down at his mate's blackened burned legs and feet. He gagged, falling to his knees, sick to his stomach. Deputy Henry and Beaver turned as one and rushed to support him.

“Jay, Jay. You alright?” Jim pulled Jared’s hair back to keep it out of the sick as Jared tried to get his roiling stomach under control.

“Jim, what the fuck did they do to him?”

Jensen moaned at that moment and Jared pushed up, staggering toward Jensen, falling to his knees beside his mate. Jim had Jensen on a blanket, but his mate was still naked. Jared was sure it was because Jim didn’t want to touch anywhere that hurt, and from the looks of him, Jensen must hurt everywhere.

Licking his lips, Jared took a chance and caught up Jensen’s hand, holding it to his chest. He could feel the bond hum to life as it opened between them. Pain flooded over him, and Jared cried out in shock.

“Jared!” Jim rushed to his side. “You alright son?”

“No, it’s okay, it’s alright.” Jared rushed to answer. He looked at Jensen's face, and his mate had already passed out again. His face was dirty and blood streaked and his eyes looked bruised, but it was the bite on his neck that worried Jared most. Right over Jared’s mating mark, the new bite had gone putrid. Black lines streamed from the wound down Jensen’s arm and across his chest. Jared’s wolf recoiled at the sick stink of death clinging to his mate.

Jared looked up desperately at the men around the fire. “He’s dying, we’ve got to do something!”

Another man, a tall, thin black man, crouched down on the other side of Jensen. He cupped his hand gently behind Jensen’s head before looking Jared in the eyes. “Jim’s sent for the doctor, but I don’t know. It's blood poisoning, and I’m not sure if he's strong enough to fight it.”

On some logical level, Jared knew this man must be Williams, the man who’d been the closest thing to a father Jensen had after his own family’s death. Williams stared at each of the three men, and in a deadly serious voice, said, “I promise I will never say a word about anything, but if you folks have some trick up your sleeve that could save Jensen. I’m begging you to use it. Otherwise, I don’t think my boy here is gonna make it.”

Jared could see unshed tears in Williams' eyes and he looked instantly to Jim, who had stiffened and started to sputter, “What are you talking about?”

“It’s okay Jim,” Jared patted Jim’s hand, “He knows. He knows it all, Jensen told me when he got back. He was going to tell you and Jeff.”

Williams nodded, earnestly, “I do but, I swear no harm will come to you or yours because of me, but if you _can_ , do something, save him. He’s been like a son to me.”

Jared leaned down and began to run his fingers carefully up and down Jensen’s battered body, feeling all the broken, fevered parts. Tears began to track down his cheeks as he looked at the burned ruin of Jensen’s feet, and his mind blanked out for a moment when he noticed for the first time the star branded in silver on Jensen’s hip. Dashing the tears from his eyes, he started to rock back and forth, keening, his heart breaking into a million pieces. He continued to rock as he looked up at Williams. “I think he’s only alive right now because his were abilities have kept one step ahead of the injuries. This bite is what’s killing him. One of them must have tried to mate Jensen. Madness… they’re alphas. This must be some kind of insane revenge for the shunning. Oh God, oh God, oh God!”

Jim grasped his shoulder and squeezed, halting his rocking motion. His face appeared in front of Jared, blue eyes pleading, “Jay. I know you’re hurting, but concentrate. Is there anything we can do to save him?”

Jared’s mind spun wildly. Licking his suddenly dry lips, he stared down at Jensen’s face. He could taste Williams’ sincerity. It was easy to see the man only wanted the best for Jensen. Without a doctor, without medical supplies of any kind it seemed hopeless. Jared racked his brain for a possible solution. Right now, Jensen was unconscious and far too sick to shift. _Think, Jared, THINK_ Every second that went by was one more second closer to Jensen’s death.

He thought of the little leather journal Jensen had gifted him with upon his return. The hand bound story of Joxum and Tane’s life together in the pack. Jared shook his head, snorting softly. Of all the challenges Joxum and Tane faced, this was one even they might not have been able to get out of. Dashing more tears out of his eyes he gazed off down the tunnel.

Staring blindly into the darkness, a daring idea started to take form. In a bold leap of faith he raised his head and said, “I think I might know a way.”

Beaver and Williams gazes fastened on him instantly, hope replacing the grim resignation on their faces. “I– I’m not sure. I’ve never done this before, but it’s talked about in our history.

“If he shifted, he might be able to heal this, but right now he doesn’t have enough energy left to shift. Maybe if I could try to channel energy into him as they did in the old days, if I can send him enough energy, maybe he would have enough strength to shift." His gaze sought the other men's, seeking encouragement and their agreement. "There were stories of Tane and Joxum sharing energy. That was why Joxum was so strong in battle. It’s worth a try.”

“What do we have to do?” Williams asked.

“I need one of you to make sure I don’t lose contact with Jensen. I need to be holding his hands in order to channel as much of my strength into him as I can. And if the other could hold Jensen in place. I’m not sure if this will hurt and he may fight me. I need you to hold him as still as possible without hurting him.”

Both Jim and Steve nodded and took up positions. Jim beside Jared and Steve across from them, his arms tentatively holding Jensen’s arms in place.

“What do you want me to do, chief?” James Boyd asked.

“Keep an eye out for Foldbrook and Winters,” Jim ordered. “All we need right now is those asshats coming back and interrupting whatever mojo Jared’s got brewing.”

“Yes sir.” Boyd nodded and pulled his piece and began to diligently scan either end of the tunnel, in turn.

“Jay,” Crouched down next to him, Jim’s hand returned to his shoulder, “What if you give him all your energy, won’t that kill you?”

Jared chuckled weakly, “Well the plan is to try and give him just enough that we both make it through this. Everyone ready?”

Going on instinct alone, Jared eased his leg over Jensen’s waist so he was kneeling up over his mate. Blowing out a breath, he took Jensen’s hands in his. He tried to take no notice of the silver burns on his mate’s wrists, or the weird distortion of his shoulders where they were both out of joint. He concentrated on Jensen’s face as he forced himself to open the bond as wide as he could.

It was like standing on the edge of a blast furnace, all the unshielded pain in Jensen’s body pouring over him in wave after wave of agony. Jared ground his teeth and, with determination, started to shove handfuls of energy toward his mate.

Jensen’s chest heaved and his torso arched off the ground as his body began to absorb the flow, and Steve scrambled to hold him down as he bucked and arched. Shivering with the adrenaline rush of it all, Jared exhaled and did it again. Once more, Jensen’s body arched, but this time Jensen’s eyelids fluttered and opened. Jared stared into his mate’s pain filled eyes as he pushed more and more of his strength into Jensen’s body. Jensen moaned, unable to speak.

“Jensen, Jensen, listen to me. You have to shift. You have to shift now.” Jared squeezed his eyes tight and readjusted his grip on Jensen’s hands, sending him another bolt of energy. “Shift!”

Nothing happened.

Jared looked around wildly, “It’s no use, I’m not an alpha, he’s not listening to me. We need Jeff.”

Jim shook his head, “He’s still over an hour out.”

“Jensen doesn’t have that much time. Is there another alpha here?” Jared’s vision was starting to blur, he was losing strength quickly.

Jim shook his head, “Don’t look at me son.”

Henry shrugged helplessly, “I’m human, so’s Boyd.”

“Wait, why does he need an alpha?” Williams, injected himself into the conversation.

Panting from the strain of supplying Jensen with so much of himself, Jared tossed his hair out of his sweat slick face. “An alpha can order Jensen to do something. I may be his mate but I’m still only an omega. As much pain as he's in, he's ignoring me. We need a powerful voice.”

“Well hell, let me have a try. I’ve been ordering this boy around for most of his life. He’ll listen to me.”

Jim shrugged. “Hell if I know, but it’s worth a shot. Boyd," he ordered his deputy. “Call and get another alpha out here, stat." He turned back to Williams, “But in the meantime...”

Boyd stepped away to call on the radio and Williams leaned in closer to ask Jared, “So what do I need to do?”

“I don’t know, this hasn’t been tried in centuries. Maybe touch him. Contact is always good with us. Hold his face, make him open his eyes and then order him. Whatever you do, don’t ask. Order.”

“All right, then.” Williams knelt above Jensen’s head and cupped his face gently.

“Okay now!” Jared sent another blast of energy through the bond as Williams started to speak.

“Jensen, Marshal Ackles, you open your eyes, boy, and listen to me. Marshal Ackles, I’m ordering you to shift. Shift, Jensen, I mean it son, you shift your damn ass into the prettiest were I’ve ever seen. Marshal Ackles, SHIFT!”

Nothing. Jensen lay there, barely breathing.

“Again.” Jared wheezed, spots dancing before his eyes. Williams nodded and Jared threw everything he had through the bond in one determined last stand.

“Marshal Jensen Ackles, I know you can hear me, and I want you to shift your ass right now. Shift, son. This is our last chance. Shift, son. You don’t want to leave this pretty boyfriend of yours all alone. Shift, damn it. I’m ordering you to shift, Jensen, and you’ve never disobeyed me yet. SHIFT NOW!”

Jensen eyelids slammed wide, his mouth open in a wide O, his whole body trembling as he stared sightlessly at the ceiling. His body arched off the floor and, he started to shimmer. Slowly, painfully slowly, Jensen started to shift, a terrible inhuman scream coming from his mouth as his flesh tore itself apart and in slow motion reformed before their eyes.

Jared couldn’t bear to watch, he simply sent every last molecule of strength he had through the bond to his mate. He could feel Jensen’s wolf scratching and clawing toward the surface, pulling and dragging Jensen with him as it moved toward the light. Jared’s hands felt shredded and raw as the wolf battled through the bond for its very existence. Jared couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, he was held in stasis as a long, continuous arc of energy flowed through and now around him and Jensen’s body.

“Jesus!” He heard Williams breathe out, and then nothing.

 

 

**Jared — 10:00 p.m.**

Jared could feel Jim’s hand on his shoulder, rocking him gently. But his shoulder felt strange, different. Jim’s voice was insistent. “Jared. Jared, son. You did it. He’s alive.”

Jared’s eyes opened and he found himself staring at the pure white fur of Jensen’s wolf. He moved back, trying to rise to his feet, all four of them. Too weak, he tumbled back to the ground. Distantly, he realized that he too must have shifted. Jared leaned in and nuzzled at his sleeping mate’s head. He inhaled deeply, and could scent no sickness clinging to Jensen’s fur. His mate would live.

Forcing himself to lift his head, Jared looked at Beaver and Williams kneeling huddled overhead, looks of wonder on their faces.

Jim ran his hand along the fur on Jared’s neck, “Easy Jared, don’t overdo it, lie back. Oh my God son, you did it. You did it, Jay. You healed him. You almost killed yourself doing it, but he’s alive and the shoulder wound is gone.”

“He’s beautiful.” Jared heard Williams breathe out reverently as he crouched alongside Jim, near Jensen’s head. His hand hovered over the white were, afraid to touch.

“He’s– They– you’re both so beautiful. And he’s gonna be okay?” Flustered, Williams looked Jared in the eye and Jared nodded.

“He’s gonna be okay!” A smile lit Williams face and he swung around and grabbed Jim by the face and kissed him.

Jim’s body stiffened, his back ramrod straight as Williams pulled him in tight and deepened the kiss. Jared could smell pheromones starting to leak off both of the men, and Jim’s body, in spite of his initial reaction, subtly softening in Williams' hold. If Jared were in his human form and not dead tired, he would have been grinning like a loon. Instead he could only lay there with what passed for a were smile on his face, tongue lolling out and a twinkle in his eyes.

When Williams pulled back, he chucked his finger under Jim’s jaw, forcing the man to look up at him. “’Been looking for an excuse to do that this whole trip. Now, that the danger's over, how’s about we try that again?”

Jim’s mouth gaped wide, and Williams leaned in for a second, deeper kiss. Jared couldn’t miss how the two men slotted even tighter together as Williams deepened the kiss, bringing his hand up to gently cup Jim’s head.

When Williams leaned back, you could hear a pin drop in the cave. Then Jim started to sputter and jumped to his feet. “What the hell? Keep your lips off of me you…you… Stay back.” Embarrassed, Jim glanced around the cave, noticing Jared’s amused expression, and hurriedly announced, “I’m going to see about some blankets for Jay and Jensen, and whether the doc's arrived.”

Williams breathed out a little chuckle at Beaver’s hasty retreat. He winked at Jared, who had eased even closer to the peacefully sleeping Jensen as the full brunt of his exhaustion hit him.

“Oh yeah, he’s totally gone for me.”

Jared smiled a wolfy smile at Williams' cocky sense of assurance, and cuddled in next to his mate, burying his muzzle in the soft fur of his neck. Surrounded by the reassuring beat of Jensen’s heart, and the steady thrum of the bond between them, he nodded off.

Comments always appreciated ^^


	17. The Forge — Healing

 

 

****Dylan — 10:00 p.m.** **

After Jared’s abrupt departure, Dylan wandered aimlessly around the apartment until, finally driven by the delicious smells coming from the dining room, he ended up back at the table. Ladling out a serving of spaghetti for himself and one for Aaron, Dylan briefly debated if he should move the bowl to the floor or leave it on the table. Shrugging his shoulders, he set it on the table. When in Rome…

Apparently hungry as well, Aaron suspended hostilities long enough to hop up on the table, and went directly to his bowl. The little pup stared at his bright green dish quizzically. Dylan had been wondering how the little guy was going to eat the long awkward strands. Aaron nosed into the bowl, then whined and flopped down, resting his head on his paws, his sad puppy eyes drooping in defeat. Guiltily, Dylan realized abruptly that he should have cut up the spaghetti for the pup.

Although both of them had initially seemed hungry, neither of them ate much, even after Aaron’s meal had been cut into nice bite sized lengths. After the desultory meal was over, Aaron immediately made himself scarce. Feeling more than a little ashamed for mistaking his identity, Dylan had tried again to apologize to the pup hiding all too obviously under Jared’s bed, but Aaron stubbornly refused to come near him. Unsure exactly how to deal with the little boy, Dylan busied himself packing away the remains of the meal. Finished with the tidying up, he curled up on the sofa, trying to think of a way to mollify the cub. He turned on the TV, flicking through the channels, and a devilish smile curled his lips. Leaving the TV set on the cartoon channel, he waited to see how long Aaron could hold out.

His fiendish plot sort of backfired when he got lost in the cartoons himself. It had been a long time since he’d watched TV, and the misadventures of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck reminded him of much happier days, when his mom and dad were alive. He was so caught up in the show he didn’t see Aaron’s stealthy arrival.

It was only when he was laughing so hard at something on the screen that he had to wipe his eyes, that he noticed Aaron beside him, ears perked, and blue gaze avidly watching the screen, one cushion away.

“Hey buddy.” Dylan scratched between Aaron’s ears and the little pup leaned into his hand. “Sorry about earlier, okay? Friends?”

Dylan stretched out his hand palm up and Aaron tipped his head, looking at him seriously for a moment before stretching out a tiny paw and high fiving him.

“That’s my boy. Want to come up in my lap?”

Aaron nodded and jumped up, cuddling in close. The two watched cartoons companionably until Dylan startled up from a doze, yawning so hard his jaw cracked. He looked down at the warm bundle in his lap and saw that Aaron had nodded off as well. A quick look at the clock showed him it was well past eleven, time for both of them to get to bed. After checking out the window one last time, in the hope of Jared’s return, he gathered the pup in his arms and headed to the bedroom.

He laid Aaron on the bedspread and stripped down to his t-shirt before putting on the pajama bottoms Kim had got him. He flat out refused to wear the tops, but his heart got kind of tight inside his chest when he looked down at the vivid green tyrannosauruses printed all over the blue flannel pants. Leaving the kitchen light on and the bedroom door ajar, he slid between the sheets of Jared’s big bed. The mattress was heavenly, not too soft or saggy, just the right amount of puffy and firm. Dylan sighed as his head sank into the pillow. He lay there in the darkness, fingers laced behind his head, thinking about Jared and Jensen, and hoping they were okay. Restless, he glanced around the dim bedroom and saw the reflection of the light off two blue eyes. Aaron was awake and watching him.

“So, long day, right?”

The little pup nodded his head.

Dylan rolled over on his side and gazed at Aaron quizzically. “So, Jay says you have the opposite problem as me.”

Aaron cocked his head curiously and Dylan went on, “You can’t seem to shift back to human, and I can’t seem to shift to were, or at least not with much control. I hoped by now, being around all these weres, that it would get easier, you know? But it really hasn’t. I still don’t shift when I want to. It’s like, whatever you’re supposed to feel, or do, as you shift, I’m not feeling it. I wish I did. I’d like to go check out the settlement, you know? Just, not on two feet, but on four.” Dylan rolled back onto his back and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Aaron looked forlornly at him.

“I’m sure you’re the opposite, would love to be back on two legs, hug your mom, and all.” Dylan rubbed Aaron’s head and the pup yipped in agreement. “Now, me, I never even knew I was a were until I shifted by accident a year or so ago. When my mom and dad were killed I must have kind of blocked it all out, completely forgot I was a were. I think that’s when I blocked my wolf out, too. Is that what happened to you? Did something scare you so bad you can’t shift back?”

Aaron crept up onto Dylan’s chest and lay down, resting his head on his paws.

“With me, when my wolf finally broke free, I thought I was going to hurt a friend, so I kind of shoved him back. Now I think he’s pissed at me. What did you do? Let your wolf get so comfy he won’t let go? We’re quite a pair, right?”

Aaron yipped in agreement and Dylan chuckled.

“You know, maybe what we should both do is try and relax, and just shift as we fall asleep. Maybe if we’re not overthinking it, it’ll just happen. Are you with me?”

Aaron raised his head and howled. A thin, reedy, puppy howl, but Dylan got the idea. He grinned and rubbed Aaron’s head affectionately.

They lay there together for a while until Dylan’s eyes started to drift shut. Yawning, he cracked open an eyelid before he fell asleep completely, and stroking his hand down Aaron’s back, he whispered, “Remember, try and shift before we fall asleep, okay?” Dylan yawned again, and that was the last thing he remembered.

**Jared — 11:00 p.m.**

Beverly Benedict had been the trusted doctor for the weres and the human residents of Munter’s Gorge for a long time. She was herself a were, a beta, and she was on the scene just as soon as she'd been called. She folded her stethoscope now, and lifted one of Jensen’s paws, looking at the scorched fur above the bandages she’d just finished applying, the flesh alternating between pink patchy parts and cracked, blackened skin. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this. From the amount of damage still evident, even after shifting, what he's been put through must have been horrific. I’m surprised he’s even still with us. His wolf must be incredibly strong, and the bond between Jared and Jensen, well, we’ve all heard the legends, but I don’t think any of us thought they were true. The whole idea of sharing energy is astounding.” The doctor set Jensen’s leg down carefully, “But you’ll be glad to hear that weak, underweight and dehydrated, and beat up as he is, he’s not going to be dying anytime soon.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s going to take a long time before he’s a hundred percent, though, and there’s a definite possibility, with all he’s been through, that there will be some permanent scarring or damage. I’m particularly worried about those burns on his feet and legs. He’ll just need plenty of bed rest now, as he continues to heal, and he shouldn’t attempt to shift for several days.”

Seeing that Jared was now awake and listening, the doctor turned her attention to him where he lay, still in his wolf form. She carefully patted Jared’s side. “And you, my friend, are incredibly lucky to be alive, as well. Your vital signs were scarily low when I arrived. Whatever you did to heal your mate, you’ve completely exhausted yourself. Consider yourselves both on complete bed rest for at least the next little while.”

Jared looked over at his mate. Even in wolf form, Jensen’s eyelids looked bruised, the skin beneath the white fur, dark and shadowy under his eyes. Over the rest of his body, flecks of red mapped the bloody ordeal where Foldbrook had hacked and cut at his mate.

Dr. Benedict caught Jared’s gaze and smiled softly, “I realize it must look pretty bad to you. The laundry list of injuries is substantial. Shifting may have healed most of the superficial cuts, lacerations and bruises and healed the blood poisoning that was killing him, but there is still a considerable amount of healing to be done.”

The doctor paused as Jared glanced over his mate, he could still see that some of the worst of it still remained.

“There are still: burns on Jensen’s feet and legs, swelling and bruising in his groin, on his face, silver burns on his arms and legs, and there will be serious lingering weakness and soreness in his shoulders.” The doctor glanced around warily, lowering her voice discreetly so additional officers on the scene wouldn’t hear. “There’s some anal tearing and bleeding from what must have been repeated violent rapes. And the brand — that will heal, but the metal is fused well below skin and muscle — I wouldn't be surprised if it goes bone deep. Trying to remove it would cripple him, cause too much permanent damage, even if he wanted to attempt it. He’ll probably carry it to the end of his days, but you can take comfort in the fact that he will feel no pain from it. In Jensen’s case the application of the silver was direct to the skin, and the nerve endings were burned away and the wound cauterized so quickly he has no sensation left in and around the brand. It doesn’t mean, of course, that you can’t burn yourself on it, but he can’t feel anything, which is a mercy the Shunned don’t share.” Continuing in her normal voice, she told them, “I reduced both shoulder dislocations while Jensen was unconscious. Ordinarily, I strap dislocated shoulders for the first week or so to prevent movement. But with both of them, and him in wolf form, that's not really possible. He still should restrict use and movement as much he can, no weight-bearing, at first, but his were healing will speed up the process. They’ll be sore as a bitch for a while, but it's all soft tissue damage, no shattered bones or internal bleeding. So, as long as he restricts movement, and keeps weight off the joints until they've healed, a trip to the hospital isn’t necessary.”

“You sure about that Doc? I don’t want to take any chances with these boys?” Jim asked.

The doctor shook her head decisively. “No, the best place for both of them, especially as weres, is home, surrounded and cared for by pack. They’ll recover faster there with lots of rest, and plenty of liquids and healthy food.” Patting Jared’s paw consolingly, Dr. Benedict smiled gently. “I’ve been this one’s doctor since he was a pup. Take it from me, it will take a while, but they’ll both recover fully. There is one thing we can do for them that will be more help than anything, but for that to happen, we need to get them both outside.”

“Well, I think we can arrange that.” Jim called over to several deputies in the cave to come help out. As carefully as possible, he, Williams, and the other men lifted Jensen onto a stretcher, covered the still form with a blanket, and strapped him in.

Jared watched helplessly as his mate was carried away. Every molecule of his being wanted to be by his side, but Jared could barely move. “This will all go easier if you can relax.” Dr. Benedict soothed as she slid the needle in. Jared flinched and then the world went black around him.

 

The next time he opened his eyes, Jared was lying under the soft glow of the full moon, the crisp night air shockingly cold, even to his wolf’s nose. Panicking momentarily, he searched for Jensen, and found his mate beside him, on a stretcher in easy reach. The blankets were pulled back, and Jensen’s wolf was exposed to the night air and the healing balm of the moonlight. Lying so still there, Jensen’s fur appeared blue white, and the bloodstains black as pitch. Only the shallow rise and fall of Jensen’s chest assured Jared his mate was still very much alive. Jared’s heart clenched tighter when Jensen whimpered, however deeply unconscious he might be. Jared wasn’t sure how long they lay there, the moon shining down on them. Lights from the cruisers flashed, and there were murmured conversations as deputies came and went, but all Jared could focus on was the moonlit sky and the waves of healing strength flowing into him and his mate. Breathing a sigh of relief, his eyelids slid closed, and he let sleep take him.

Jared was watching the first faint hint of light appear in the east when the doctor’s silhouette at his side blocked out the predawn show. He looked at her enquiringly.

“Jared, the moon’s almost ready to set. We’re going to take you back to your apartment, but before we do, there is something I’d like you to try.” The doctor bit her lip nervously. “I don’t want you to overdo it, but with the full moon, there’s no better time to shift and draw from its strength. If you think you could possibly manage, the shift would help with your healing and your energy levels.”

Jared gazed at her wearily. He was still so weak, he wasn’t sure he could even sit up, let alone shift, but the Doc was right. He’d do his best to try. A few feet away he heard Williams mutter, “Is the woman crazy? He just about killed himself pouring his energy into Jensen. Won’t shifting again drain him even more?”

Beaver grabbed onto Williams' arm before the man could storm over to Jared’s aid. “Hey, hold on there, the light of the full moon is like super vitamin juice to most weres. Isn’t that why you hunter types don’t want to face them on a full moon? Think. Doc knows what she’s doing.”

Grumbling, Williams took a begrudging step back, willing to wait things out as Jim shouted orders for his officers to clear the area and give Jared some privacy.

Jared understood why Jensen felt so strongly about the older hunter. _He had been Jensen’s pack all this time_ , Jared thought in wonder. Staring up at the moon, he tried to gather enough change to shift.

**Jared — 5:00 a.m.**

Jim borrowed a track suit one of the deputies had in his car for Jared, so he’d have something to wear, and offered to help him get dressed in the ambulance. In the small space of the ambulance’s interior, it was a challenge to get everything on. Jared was still so weak he could hardly lift a hand. After maneuvering Jared into the pants, Jim helped him shove his arms into the sleeves and pulled the front of the tracksuit closed over Jared’s bare chest.

His gruff voice softening as he zipped the jacket closed, “It’s okay Jay, we’ll look after you. Lay back, son.” Jared, who had been trying to sit up, sank back gratefully onto the stretcher. He glanced over at Jensen on the other side of the ambulance and tried to reach for him, but his strength failed. Unable to touch his mate, he had to settle for watching him sleep.

“We’ll cover Jensen completely,” said Jim, who had clambered out of the ambulance and was talking to his deputies after they pulled up in front of Jared’s apartment. “Nobody will know we’re carrying a were up to the apartment. I know it’s only six in the morning, but you can’t be too careful.” Jim looked at the sleeping wolf and scratched at his beard, “The poor boy's still out cold, but that should make things easier.”

Three police officers and an EMT carried the stretcher with Jensen on it to Jared’s second story walkup. Williams let the men in with keys he’d found in Jared’s car. When it was Jared’s turn, he tried to protest that he could do it himself, but running out of breath halfway through his argument showed him the futility of his request. Once they maneuvered through the door to the apartment, Jared saw the other stretcher with Jensen on it was parked in the living room, Williams pointed toward the kitchen by way of explanation.

Jared had completely forgotten about Dylan and Aaron being there until he saw Taylor just outside the kitchen. She had used the extra key Jared had given her to let herself in. As they pushed his stretcher farther into the apartment, he saw the tears streaming down her face.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” Jared voice was faint and wheezy as Taylor rushed over and wrapped her arms around him. Jared was so weak he couldn't hug her back, and had to settle for squeezing her hand. He glanced around, the place it didn’t look like it had been burglarized, as far as he could tell the only other possibility were the boys. “Are the kids okay?”

That’s when Taylor really started to cry, shaking her head through the tears. “Go. Go look.” She gestured toward the bedroom.

Jim and Williams refused to let Jared try to stand, but curious themselves, they offered to push Jared’s stretcher into the bedroom. Jared wasn’t quite sure what he would find, but the sight of the unfamiliar body of a young wolf, his brown fur streaked with white, and a small tow-headed boy curled up next to him, naked as a jaybird, his pudgy little boy arm curled protectively around the wolf’s furry neck, wasn’t one of them.

Relief and joy washed through him, and a tired smile tugged at Jared’s lips. It had been months since he’d seen Aaron in his human form. He could feel wetness in the corners of his own eyes as he sniffed the air to confirm his suspicion on the identity of the unfamiliar were — Dylan — sleeping peacefully beside him.

Taylor had followed Jared into the room, and she clutched his hand tightly. “Isn’t it amazing? It’s a miracle.”

Smiling, Jared let his head fall back onto the stretcher, his meager resources running low. Finally able to tear her gaze away from her son, she glanced at Jared, embarrassment showing in her face. “I’m so sorry, this isn’t all about me. I’m just overwhelmed. I never expected…” Shaking her head, she started over, “I was on my way over to pick up Aaron when Jeff called and told me that Jensen was hurt. Is he going to be okay? Is that him?” Taylor glanced toward the other stretcher. “And what happened to you?”

“Doc says with lots of rest, Jensen will make a full recovery, thank God.” Jared grimaced. “It was close, though. Me, I just wore my self out helping him.”

“Did they catch Foldbrook and Winters?”

Jared wet his lips, a sudden burst of anger giving him the strength to speak. “No. Jim’s got men looking for them, but we think they slipped out another tunnel. We’ll catch them, though, and they’ll pay for what they did to Jensen, if I have to do it myself.”

Taylor rubbed his arm in understanding, “I can’t even imagine. But look at you, you must be exhausted. I’m going to take Aaron with me, and head over to pick up Patrick from his sleepover last night. Jeff said he’d come by later this morning to pick up Dylan.” Taylor stared down at Aaron for a moment, her hand tracing along his soft cheek, before lifting him in her arms. “My goodness, my baby’s grown.” Taylor started to laugh and smile through her tears as she cuddled the sleeping boy close. “Oh, I’ll need something….”

But Jim was already there with a blanket, quickly taking the small boy into his own arms and wrapping the blanket around him. “I’ll carry him down for you, Ma’am.”

“You know, Kim hoped Dylan would be a good influence on my baby,” Taylor smiled, dashing more tears out of her eyes as she turned to leave. “But I never expected this. Give Dylan a big kiss for me when he wakes up, would you? He’s a pretty special boy.”

“Yes, he is,” Jared murmured, as Taylor turned and made her way out of the apartment. He watched wearily as a couple of the EMTs slid Jensen under the covers beside Dylan. Jared gazed at the two weres lying side by side so peacefully, and swallowed hard against all the emotion that filled his chest. He could barely tear his gaze away from Jensen’s sleeping form. When his eyelids started to flutter closed with exhaustion, Jim and Williams stepped in. Jim announced. “You’re startin’ to look like death warmed over, Jay. We’re movin’ the boy to the sofa.”

Jared started to protest, but Jim brushed his concerns away. “Hush, he’ll be just fine, and will fit a hell of a lot better on it than you.” Jim stepped past him and carefully lifted Dylan in his arms. With Williams' help, they carried the teenager into the living room and laid him out comfortably, and covered him with the fleece throw folded over the sofa back.

The remaining EMTs helped slide Jared into bed. As he sank down into the blissfully comfortable mattress, he was more than a little grateful to the two men for moving the boy. Now that he was lying beside Jensen, he had to admit to wanting nothing more than to fall asleep with his mate secure in his arms, and for him to be there when he woke up.

Jim stuck his head in a final time to say, “We’re just gonna show ourselves out. Tell Jensen I don’t want to see his face at work until he’s got the Doc’s say so. And tell him not to worry, I’ll look after all the paperwork. I’m also leaving two deputies on surveillance to watch out for you two, in case Winters or Foldbrook make a reappearance.” The Sherriff eased the bedroom door shut behind him, but not before Jared heard Williams whisper, “Is everyone in this town a were?” Jared chuckled, as he wearily wriggled himself out of his borrowed tracksuit. He'd have to see that it got back to the deputy who'd loaned it. But now, he just wanted to sleep skin to skin with his mate.

With the last of his strength, he pulled Jensen’s sleeping form into his arms and, once again, buried his face in the soft, warm fur of Jensen’s neck. Finally, safe at home, surrounded with Jensen’s familiar scent, Jared let himself truly relax. In his sleep, Jensen whined and turned toward Jared, sensing his mate’s presence. Jared watched him, nuzzled in close, and whispered, “It’s okay, baby, everything’s going to be just fine." And for the first time in a long time he knew he was right.

: : :

**Jim — 7:30 a.m.**

On the drive back to his motel, Williams announced that with the case’s sudden conclusion, he’d be flying back to Dallas that evening. Jim wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The Captain had been a prickly thorn in his side since he'd arrived, but now that he was leaving, Jim had a pang of what might be more than a little regret. When Jim dropped him off at the door to his room, Williams side-eyed Beaver, promising to drop by the department after he’d had some sleep to make a final call on “Sheriff Jim Beaver,” before leaving for the airport.

Jim snorted. He guessed they’d see then, who got in the last word.

: : :

The day had flown by. After catching a couple fitful hours' sleep on the lumpy sofa in the break room at the office, Jim had awakened in a dark mood, images of Jensen in that mine haunting his dreams. He had barely had another second to think about Williams and his impending departure as he worked to manage the fallout from Jensen’s abduction. Foremost, he redirected his deputies' and searchers' efforts towards a full on manhunt for Foldbrook and Winters. He didn’t hold out much luck of catching the crazed weres, but his gut kept telling him they hadn’t seen the last of either man. Then, he’d had a small mission of his own to look into. He thought briefly of asking Williams to join him, then angrily tossed the idea aside. Since when did he need the Marshal to do his job?

The black mood he had awoken with hadn’t improved. At least he didn’t have any paperwork to do. This whole mess needed to be kept under the radar. He couldn’t even put out a BOLO for the men’s capture, it was still only suspicion that it was them. Until Jensen woke and shifted and was strong enough that he could be interviewed, Jim didn’t have an eyewitness account of who was responsible. Right now they could only speculate on what went down in that mineshaft.

His last appointment of the day was a meeting with Morgan, and a couple of his deputies he had assigned to go over the Soams’ ranch with a fine tooth comb. The men filed into Jim’s office, each carrying two black duffel bags. While Dylan charmed his way into Shel’s secret candy stash, Morgan closed the door to Jim’s office to give them a bit more privacy to discuss what they’d found.

“So…what’s all this?” Jim gazed at the three men and the bags they dropped in a stack in front of his desk. Gauging by their ashen complexions, they had seen something at the ranch that had clearly rattled them all. “Was it as bad as I think it was?”

James Boyd took off his Stetson and ran his shaking hand over his face. It was clear none of them had gotten much sleep in the last twenty-four hours, either. “Pretty much, sir. As you suspected, there were drugs on the premises, some in the mine and some at the house. It turns out Pellegrino was smuggling it in crates of furniture. We found over forty kilos of pure, uncut coke, bagged and shrink wrapped, still inside the crates in the mine. They’d hidden the drugs in the upholstery of the furniture. By the looks of things, Pellegrino must have received a big shipment just before his death, and there was clear evidence that Foldbrook and Winters, or someone in the know, had been cutting the stuff in the farmhouse for redistribution, and recently, too. One of the Bunsen burners was still lit when we got there.”

Jed Henry stepped forward, worrying the brim of his Stetson in his hands. “They had a pretty sophisticated setup too, clean room, and a whole chem lab in the kitchen, plastic walls, the works. They knew what they were doing. The street value of what we found at the house alone would be worth millions. Wouldn’t surprise me if their little operation had been supplying the whole Northwest.”

“Right under our noses. Damn it! How the hell did they pull that off?” Jim swore softly, slamming his fist on the desk, more than a little disgruntled. Looking up at the three men, Jim’s gaze narrowed. All three of them still looked strung tight as bowstrings. He rubbed the back of his neck and swore again. “From the looks of you bunch, why do I think I haven’t heard the worst of what you found?”

The two deputies grew pale and glanced nervously at each other. Jeff, who had been leaning against the back wall, stepped forward. “No it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.”

“What do you mean?” Jim's gaze raked over the three men.

“We found their getaway vehicle, a white cube van in one of the larger outbuildings. There were packaged and cut drugs in duffels stashed behind the front seats, along with these.” Jeff gestured toward the six duffels. “We didn’t have time to count it all, we lost track after one million, but there’s more than enough cash to keep them living large for years, hell, they could probably buy their own island with all this. But that wasn’t all we found. ” Morgan rubbed at his jaw and gazed out the window, clearly more serious. “It was what we found at the back of the van that was really twisted. The doors were open and chains and welding equipment nearby. It’s pretty obvious we interrupted the last of their preparations. The bastards had tried to pretty it all up, shoved an old mattress in the back with a bedspread and added curtains on the back window, all comfy like. But then we noticed the fresh welds on the van’s floor where they had finished attaching chains at three of the four points of the bed.” Morgan turned, and stared at Jim with haunted eyes. “Jim, the cuffs had silver linings on the insides. The sick fucks had planned to take Jensen with them when they left. By the looks of things, we got there just in time.”

Jim’s gut gave a sick twist at the idea of Jensen tortured and at the captors' mercy. His legs felt shaky, and he pulled out his desk chair and sat down heavily.

Jeff’s gravely voice interrupted his thoughts. “Honestly Jim, I think if you’d been a half hour later, we might never have found Jensen alive.”

“What do we do now, Sheriff? What do you want us to do with the money and the drugs?” Swallowing hard, Boyd looked up.

Jim gazed over at the stacked duffels. “We can’t report this, any of it. It’ll bring a shitstorm of trouble down on our heads. We need to wait until Jensen regains consciousness and tells us what happened there, but right now I’m thinking we burn it all, the drugs, the van, all the evidence. The money I think could be a nice anonymous donation to the town. Any ideas?”

Jeff perked up, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know a damn good cause. The Falls powerplant is on it’s last legs. I’ve been keeping it going with spit and twine, but the city doesn’t have the money to replace the whole generator and refurbish the infrastructure. A couple million bucks, donated anonymously, would get the whole county a new hydro system, and we could be living off the grid for years to come. Money in everyone’s pocket. Maybe there’d even be enough money left to bury the power lines, they play hell with our hearing.”

Jim snorted. It was a damn good plan, with the powerplant taken care of, there’d be more money to spare for healthcare and education in the area. And everyone used power, it would be a way of spreading the money equally to everyone. And he could just imagine Morgan batting at his own fuzzy ears in irritation at the electrical hum. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Never let it be said that you’re not a genius, Morgan. That's a brilliant idea. I imagine it has the blessing of the pack?”

“Sure does.” The smile on the Alpha’s face broadened.

“What do you fellas think?” Jim looked at Boyd and Henry. “What we decide here has to stay here. No one talks about it to anyone, from here out.”

“Sounds fair to me, Sheriff,” Boyd grinned.

Henry swallowed, his eyes wide. “We can do that? Make a decision about millions of dollars?”

“Well, I’m not asking anyone else.”

“Hell, I love that idea. Ellie and me thought we might have to move if the town lost its station. Electricity prices are high enough all over the state as it is. I’m in.”

“It’s decided then. But keep this to yourselves. Basically, we don’t want people knowing anything more about what went on out there at the farm than we can help. A drug bust like this would have the state troopers all over us, let alone the media. For now, I’ll send a patrol out to guard the farm in case anyone doubles back to try and make a grab for something. You go on home to your families, get a good night’s sleep. You deserve it. This can get tidied up after I talk to Jensen.”

“So where do you want us to put this for now?” Boyd tipped his head toward the stack of duffels.

“I think the were cell is the safest spot for it, until we can arrange the anonymous ‘donation’. No one ever goes there.” Jim chuckled, some of the tension easing.

Nodding in thanks, the two deputies shuffled out of the office with the duffels, clearly exhausted, but pleased with themselves. Thanking his men again, Jim closed the door behind them, deciding that the information about the van was one bit of information that could wait until Jensen was fully recovered and back on his feet before he needed to hear it.

He turned back to Jeff, now sat in one of the chairs in front of Jim’s desk. He side eyed the man as he unlocked the top drawer of his filing cabinet and reached past the video camera he’d recovered from the mine to pull out a half empty bottle and two scratched glass tumblers he kept there for times when things really hit the fan. He wasn’t sure when or if he’d ever show Jensen that video. It had made him sick to watch it earlier that day, and he had had to fast forward through much of it. He was glad now he hadn’t called Williams in to watch it with him. He didn’t need to have images like that burned into his brain of Foldbrook brutally torturing and raping the man who was effectively his adopted son.

With Jensen unconscious, though, he’d been desperate for information about his assailants, and the video had been the only possible lead he had open. Watching it, alone and heartsick in his office that morning, he had decided immediately to keep that information to himself. He did feel a twinge of guilt not informing his men of the truth, that they only needed to be looking for Foldbrook, but he could live with that. Right now, only he, Foldbrook, and Jensen knew exactly what had happened in that mine, and Jim intended to keep it that way. If he ever met Foldbrook on a dark and stormy night, there would only be two people left in the world who knew what had happened there.

So, to say he needed a drink was a bit of an understatement. And if today didn’t qualify as deserving one, he didn’t know what would. Setting the glass and bottle down on the scared surface of the old oak desk, he took his own seat. Lifted the bottle of whisky, he glanced at Jeff, who nodded, and Jim started to pour. After handing Jeff his drink they tapped their glasses together in silent acknowledgement of their success today. Score one for the good guys. After a fortifying sip, Jim looked at Jeff, who was staring thoughtfully down at his own drink. “So, I guess there’s more? I’m not sure this old heart can take much more.”

“Nah, nothing bad. Pretty damn good actually. I just thought you should know, when Dylan and I were poking around the rest of the farmhouse, we spotted a pantry filled with bottles and jars of herbs. Dylan noticed a book on one of the shelves, and it turned out to be Stella Soams’ original herb book. I’m pretty sure the recipe they used to suppress their scent is hidden inside those pages. Along with dozens of other herbal cures and remedies that we thought had been lost to the pack when Stella passed.”

“So, you sayin’ something good could coming out of this whole sick clusterfuck?” Jim snorted skeptically.

Jeff nodded earnestly, leaning forward his elbows on his knees. “Not just good, this is amazing. The ability to effectively hide a were’s scent would be very handy in any dealings with the Bureau, let alone sneaking onto the Rez.”

“Well it’s nice to know something good could come out of all this.” Both men knocked back the rest of their drinks before they stood. Jim clapped Jeff on the back as he walked him out. “Good to see you folks catch a break once in a while.”

Jeff smiled tiredly, “I just wanted you to know that Dylan and I had collected all the various herbs and rarer dried spices to take back to the settlement, if you had any issues with that. And I have the recipe book from the farm locked in the glove compartment of my truck. This could be a game changer for our kind, Jim.”

 

 

Morgan’s departure marked the official end to Jim’s day. Glancing wearily at the clock, he was unsurprised to note it was well past five; his three hours of sleep was wearing thin. Settling back in his chair, he sloshed another couple of fingers of whiskey into the glass and was just about to take a sip, when he had a sense someone was watching him.

Jim peered over the rim of his glass and was unsurprised to see Williams leaned sphynx-like against the office door, surveying the bottle with a critical eye. Jim arched a questioning brow at him, already feeling at a disadvantage by being the first to make a move.

 

“You look tired, you should have gotten more rest.” Pursing his lips before he spoke again, Williams finally purred, “So, you gonna invite me in, or what? Now that we’ve solved a successful case together, an' all? Oh, I sent Shelly home, so it’s just you and me.” Williams smile didn’t completely reach his eyes.

Jim met his gaze full-on. “Yeah, what the hell, I can stand your ginormous ego for a little while longer. But, don’t you need to leave for the airport soon? Or, now?”

“Matter of fact, I do. But I wanted to have a little chat with you before I left. Didn’t want to go before speaking my mind, and all.”

Jim took his spectacles off and laid them down, leaning back in his chair. “So, you saved our boy. I admit, it was a brilliant idea, we went with it, and I'm glad. Jensen was saved, case closed. What more do you want from me?” Jim glared at Williams with all the force he could muster.

Williams smirked in satisfaction. “You know your eyes are blazing so bright right now, I could eat you right up. Teasin’ you is almost as much fun as baiting Jensen. Except more so… I don’t expect to fuck Jensen at the end of a round of kibitzing.”

Jim’s eyes went wide in shock as Williams stepped closer into his office, moving like a big, dangerous predator. He shut the door behind him and Jim flinched at the soft click of the lock engaging. What exactly did Williams think he was going to do?

As Williams rolled the blinds closed he turned, surveying Jim like he was a buffet to be sampled, “What I’d like from you is an admission that there's been more than a little chemistry going on between us.”

“Huh?... What? Just because we worked well together on a case, you think I might be attracted to your sorry ass? Think again, sunshine.” Jim laughed, and blindly reached to take another sip from his glass.

Ignoring Jim’s pitiful efforts at deflection, Williams picked the bottle of whisky off the desk and examined the label. “I wouldn't drink that if I were you, cher. That stuff will rot your gut.” Pushing the bottle aside to make room for himself on the edge of Jim’s desk, Williams sat, dusting off his hands.

“Hmm, now where were we? Oh yes, you being attracted to my sexy ass… Well, maybe not without knowin’ a bit more about me. I’m black, single, reasonably attractive, if I do say so myself, and have seen twenty-nine a long, long time ago. Oh, and I’m Jewish — but I wouldn’t expect you to convert so late in the game — but you should know, I make a mean latke. What about you?”

Jim huffed. “I’m not telling you squat. You don’t need to know anything more about me than you already know, which is that I’m Sheriff around these parts. End of story.” Jim crossed his arms across his chest, then realized how defensive the gesture looked, and forced himself to put them down on the desk. Where he fiddled with a pencil, feeling incredibly awkward under Williams' hawkish gaze.

“Hmm. Well, I think there’s a little more to you than that. For one, I know you’re a career bachelor, never found a lady friend who caught your eye, but your mysterious ‘fishing trips’ always take you out of state to Spokane, where you drop quite a bit of money at a very discreet gay bar called ‘The Wrangler’. You’ve got no brothers or sisters, and have spent much of your life alone. Sound about right?”

Jim sat there, his chest tight in shock. He’d never felt so stripped down, so vulnerable. His mouth opened but he couldn’t find any words to say. Everything he’d desperately hidden away for so long had just been casually exposed, by this man.

Williams looked at his fingernails. His lips formed a small moue of disinterest as he rubbed a thumb over the carefully manicured cuticles, before looking up and pinning Jim with his gaze. “And if we’re layin’ all our cards on the table, I suppose with an attitude like that, you probably go furry once a month too?”

It was like he'd been poked with a live wire, and Jim snorted, the fight flowing back into him as he side-eyed the man, “Attitude? Well, that’s the pot callin’ the kettle black, now ain’t it? You've been an opinionated SOB the whole time I've known about you. And, as a matter of fact, no, I don’t, not that there’s anything wrong with it. I just don’t happen to be of that persuasion, is all.” Exasperated, Jim stood and began to straighten up his desk, as though he was getting ready to call it a day, and hoped Williams would take the hint and leave.

“Well, ain’t that a surprise.” Williams' lips twisted pensively, his gaze continuing to travel over Beaver’s face. He stepped in closer and, in spite of himself, Jim backed up, cursing silently when his back bumped against his office wall.

“What, I got fur in my teeth or something, ta make you suspect otherwise? I ain’t used to being called a liar, you know. Folks around these parts are usually good as their word.”

Williams snorted, and the snort turned into chuckle, a low rumbly, infectious sound. Beaver gaped at the man, totally at a loss as to the reason for the hilarity.

“What’s so God damn funny, then?” Beaver asked, “Care to share?” He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. It had been a while since anyone had gotten to him like this, and for it to be this wiseass Hunter only seemed to add insult to injury. Flustered, Jim snatched his battered department ball cap off his head and beat it against his leg.

“City folk. You think anybody living outside a major city are moonshiners or furballs. Well, I’ll have you know we have a thriv—”

Williams grabbed Jim around the waist and pulled him in close.

Gasping, Beaver stumbled forward, his chest suddenly pressed against Williams'. He was forced to tip his head up to look into the other man’s eyes. “What the Sam hell?” he choked out. In a normal situation, if anyone else had grabbed him like this, Jim knew he’d have his gun out by now, or have put the assailant in an arm bar up against the wall. Instead, he stood there helpless, Williams' lazy southern drawl casting its spell on him.

“Shut up, old man. I’m not laughin’ cause you’re from the country. I might be from Memphis, but I’m more than familiar with what small-town hicks are like and you ain’t one of them. I’m laughing because I never thought I’d ever be attracted to another man, let alone someone like you. I thought maybe it might be some were power of yours or somethin’, but maybe it’s just your plain old orneriness that makes you so damn irresistible. Now shut up for a minute, cause I’m gonna kiss you, and it’ll be the best damn kiss your skinny white ass ever had.”

Williams — Steven — Steve — leaned in, and as much as Jim wanted to pull away and maybe run screaming from the room, he found himself frozen in place. Mouth suddenly bone dry, Jim’s tongue peeked out from between his lips, wetting them nervously, and instantly drawing Williams' attention.

Williams’ breath was minty soft as he drew closer, his tongue laved lightly over Jim’s bottom lip. Startled, Jim raised his head and Williams looked down at him, dark eyes fathomless.

Jim barely had time to take in the brilliant white smile that slowly broke across Williams' face before he murmured. “Get ready for some fireworks, cher, ‘cause I’m going in.”

Williams pushed Jim against the wall so their chests were touching and Jim's legs were forced to straddle Williams’ thigh. He could feel Williams' mouth curve into a smile where it pressed against his. Jim's hands moved to push Williams off him, but somehow ended up curled loosely in the material at his collar.

Williams’ tongue slipped inside on Jim’s startled intake of breath. Whisky and mint clashed, as Williams' tongue mapped the inside of Jim’s mouth, touching and claiming. Jim wanted to be angry, wanted to push away, but all he could do was rush to bite back the sudden unexpected moan that sprang to his lips as his growing erection made itself known. Williams repositioned them and Jim was rocked down on the hard jut of Williams’s thigh.

Shock and arousal sparked through him, and he could feel himself hardening further. The sensation was as disturbing as it was delicious, and Jim found himself rubbing again and again against Williams jeans clad thigh. Black dots swirled in his vision and as the kiss deepened, he realized he’d been unconsciously holding his breath. Williams pulled back and Jim groaned, lolling boneless against the wall as Williams continued to suck and nip along his neck and jaw. “S’almost like you never done nothing like this before. Am I your first, baby?”

“Fuck you.” Jim was finally able to gasp out and in his peripheral vision he could see Williams' smile broaden even wider. “You’re killing me here.”

“That’s the general idea, old man.” Williams pulled back long enough to tease, “Come on, show me what you got. I want to see you come in your pants like a teenager. Think you got it in you? Then, maybe I’ll show some mercy.”

Jim’s eyes fluttered closed as he bit down on the whine that wanted to spill past his lips as Steven’s deep chuckle tickled his ear. This could not be happening, this wasn’t him, he just didn’t, wasn’t, couldn’t, but inexplicably, his cock surged in his jeans, stiff and leaking, seeking friction.

Williams’s hand snaked between their tightly pressed bodies, cupping Jim’s length and kneading his aching erection as his tongue pushed inside Jim’s mouth again. Time seemed to blur and slow as somehow, while Williams tongue was pushing inside him, busy hands were flicking open the zipper of Jim’s jeans, shoving them down around his hips. His boxers soon joined them and Williams' work roughened hand was running along his swollen length. Jim flinched, and unerringly, Williams swiped his hand over the weeping head of Jim’s dick, gathering his slick to ease the friction, before returning to strip him again and again. Jim’s limp hands curled helpless around Williams’s shoulders, barely able to hold on. Jim couldn’t help the small whine that slipped past his lips when William’s lips left his, releasing him briefly so William’s could tear at a small packet, and slick his hand up. Returning almost immediately he began to suckle on Jim’s swollen bottom lip. Jim groaned in pleasure.

The world narrowed to the movement of those talented fingers and the taste of Williams on his tongue. Leaving his cock for the moment, Williams’s warm, lube slick, hand began to knead his balls, tugging and pulling until Jim screamed into Williams’s mouth. Then long fingers slipped behind his balls, rubbing at his virgin entrance. Whimpering and thrashing, Jim froze at the sudden invasion as first one long, slick covered digit, and then a second, pressed inside. Carefully, as though Jim were made of spun glass, Williams continued to push in, until with almost eerie intelligence he was pressing against something inside Jim that set those promised fireworks alight.

Harpooned by Williams’s hand and tongue both pushing relentlessly inside him, alien sensations flooded him. Jim bucked helplessly in Williams’s hands, his cries of pleasure muffled by Williams' talented tongue.

Before he knew it, Jim stiffened, arching up against Williams, the friction as his dick was pressed up tight against the rough material covering Williams’s own erection was delicious, the pleasure tightening and coiling inside him until finally, something broke, and he was falling, flailing, and everything went white. Momentarily blinded, he could hear the soft rumbling of Williams’ laugh as he cried out and shot his load, pulsing ropes of come, wet and sticky, between them, coming like a horny teenager in his pants.

“That’s it baby, show daddy who you love.”

Jim’s head sagged helplessly against Williams’ chest as the man kept both of them standing. Williams rocked gently against him, Steven’s own cock still rock hard in his pants. He could hear the affection in Williams’s voice as he rubbed his chin on Jim’s head, “That’s my boy, give it all up for me, cher.” His fingers slipped carefully out of his ass after he worked Jim through the last of his orgasm.

In a tone so low Jim thought Williams didn’t intend for him to hear, Williams let lose a shaky laugh, and then murmured, “Dear lord, I think this boy's gonna be the death of me.”

Using Jim’s private bathroom, Williams gallantly helped Jim clean up, as well as himself, before he settled him back in his chair, and strolled over to the office door.

“I’m leaving for the airport now, cher, but you can bet your scrawny white ass this isn’t the last you’ll see of me. I think I’ll be taking some time off here in the next few months, see all the pleasures Munter’s Gorge has to offer. Sample the local cuisine, and maybe find a mate of my own around these here parts. Fair warning, son. I don’t give up easily after I’ve found my man, and I’m not about to start now.”

Williams sauntered out, leaving Beaver his space to collect himself. As Williams rounded the corner to the main hallway, Jim heard him start to whistle.

Too weak to do much of anything, at the moment, Jim could only sit there and stew. He had a sinking, fluttery feeling in his gut this wasn’t the last he’d seen of the captain.

The flowers that arrived for him at the office the following morning were signed simply, ”Pour mon cher, S.”

Jim could feel the heat of a blush hit his cheeks and he slammed the office door closed to give himself time to think. Damn, Williams really had meant what he'd said. He was seriously courting him.

Beaver gave the gorgeous bouquet of delicate white ranunculuses a reproachful look and shoved them to the corner of his desk, refusing to look at them. He leaned back in his chair, glaring out the window in irritation. What in hell was it about the man that had him acting like a skittish virgin? Other than maybe the fact that he was one, and why did Williams have to come along and make things so damn complicated? Things had been so easy up until now, if maybe a bit lonely. Sure, he’d visited that club, a few of them over the years, and yeah, he’d always been careful. Nothing more than the odd hand job or a blowjob, nothing that could track back to him or his position here as sheriff. Looking back on it now, he stared at the stark possibility that caution was just another word for fear. But now, when he should be afraid, Jim was feeling something quite different; maybe he’d been afraid because he just hadn’t met the right guy, until now.

Crossing his arms he stared at the card in his hand and Williams graceful cursive muttering, “Balls.”

Comments always appreciated ^^  So is anyone going to comment on what I thought was surprisingly hot grandpa sex? Mwahaha! * chin hands * tell me your thoughts!


	18. The Forge — Surrender

 

****Jensen — Home** **

Jensen lay unmoving, simply taking in the homey sights and sounds around him as the sun started to peek over the horizon. It was good to be back at the farm, back home.

He’d spent almost a full week convalescing at the apartment, at first with Jared lying beside him almost in as bad a shape as him. Then later as his mate regained his strength, with Jared or a pack member hovering, always nearby. He hadn't shifted back to his human form for a full three days, and since then it had been all about resting. Finally, the Doc had given him the all clear that he was fit enough to move back to the farm. So with much help from Jeff and a few members of the pack, they had gotten Jensen down the stairs and into the Rover. It was mortifying, being helped like some kind of invalid, but the worst thing was, for the present at least, he really was one. The run-in with Foldbrook had taken far more out of him than he would ever admit. When they arrived at the farm, Jared carried him bridal style, under much protest from Jensen, up to their big bed on the second floor.

And there he had lain for another two days, exhausted by that brief outing. When the pain meds were slowly tapered off over the next few days, Jensen gradually became more alert, and by the end of the second week, he forced himself to get up and go to the bathroom, with Jared’s assistance. His mate’s touch on his arm felt uncomfortable and wrong, and Jensen had to stop himself from pulling away. He didn’t try to reach through the bond and sense his mate. Since the attack, he hadn’t been able to sense Jared like he used to. Just one more part of him that had returned broken.

 

Things hadn’t gotten much better since then. It was all him, Jensen knew. Jared had done nothing wrong, but every time his mate touched his brow to check for fever or ran his knuckles companionably along Jensen’s jaw, Jensen had to force himself to hold still. Guilt and disgust roiled through him, he was dirty now, unworthy of his mate's touch, tainted by the filth inflicted by Foldbrook. He’d been helpless to stop Foldbrook from doing any of it, the kidnap, rape, torture. What kind of a man, what kind of an Alpha, did that make him? If he couldn’t defend himself from an obvious madman, how could he defend and keep his mate safe – be a worthy Alpha to his mate and their future children, if they still wanted kids, after this.

He was suffocating, drowning, all these people who had been counting on him to stand up for them, Jeff, Jim, Jared, the pack, the weres imprisoned at the Rez. What would happen when they realized he couldn’t live up to any of their expectations? Hell, even his own Wolf hadn’t interacted with him in days. The hopelessness of his situation was becoming clearer with every passing day. Jensen retreated into silence, sleeping as much as he could to avoid contact with Jared. He lived in absolute fear that he would wake up one morning and Jared would finally see Jensen for what he was now, see the dark stain on their relationship, and on Jensen’s soul.

 

So here he was, almost two and a half weeks later, and Jensen was moving around the house like an old man, all his joints aching and stiff. The battle to heal his body might be making some strides, but Jensen was still lost in a labyrinth of shame and self loathing, even as he fought to hide that fact from his mate.

He couldn't help but see Jared’s concerned glances, how his mate was growing more worried. The hurt in Jared’s eyes, as though he had done something wrong, made Jensen feel even sicker, but he couldn’t seem to move past it. At any time, one simple touch, and he could be flung back into that mine, with Foldbrook’s gloating face looming over him, holding that glowing brand to his face. He would come out of his daze sweating and shaking, unable to speak about what he had just seen.

Jared hovered, and looked on nervously.

From all accounts, whether it be Jared’s, Morgan’s, or Beaver’s, he should be grateful to even be alive. Williams, though, was the only one who treated him like he hadn’t just nearly died. He still called regularly, short calls that never put Jensen on the spot. It was like the man could sense he was too raw, too vulnerable to talk about what happened to him, what was still happening to him.

Jim came to visit him pretty early on in his convalescence and had left him pretty much alone since then, probably sensing he needed some space, as well. Jensen had been able to set the record straight. Jim had quietly taken the information down. He hadn’t seemed all that surprised when Jensen informed him it had only been Foldbrook in the mine, but then, the man always did have great instincts. When Jim told him they hadn’t caught Foldbrook yet, Jensen didn’t know how to feel. Mostly he was grateful that so far, he had been able to hide all the ugliness inside him from Jared. How could his mate ever love him if he knew everything Foldbrook had done to him? Jensen shivered in dread, and pulled the blanket Jared had left with him by the fire tighter around his shoulders.

There was a soft brush of fur against his leg, and Jensen’s eyes widened in surprise, this was the first contact he’d had with Wolf since his kidnapping. He could feel Wolf curling around him, his soft fur brushing up against his skin. Concentrating, Jensen tried to reach out; he’d missed Wolf, his absence in Jensen’s head an almost physical ache, and yet more evidence of how disgraced he was. Wolf whimpered in confusion, he didn’t know where he had been. He sent Jensen an image of wandering in the woods alone.

Jensen hung his head in sudden understanding and the full weight of his own self disgust and guilt returned, Wolf was leaving him, this was goodbye.

Wolf growled, shaking his head, nipping Jensen on the neck, where his mating mark with Jared used to be. The bite didn’t hurt, but he could sense Wolf’s anger.

Wolf growled again and a wild mix of emotions flooded Jensen, not angry with him, but angry with pack mate.

Jensen blinked, swallowing hard as an image of Wolf lifting his hind leg and peeing on Foldbrook blossomed in Jensen’s mind. Wolf growled, grabbing hold of Foldbrook by the shoulder and tossing his body around. Foldbrook cringing and then Wolf chasing him into the woods of the dreamscape.

Jensen stood there wide eyed, staring off into the woods. Wolf emerged from the dense brush and padded over to his side, brushing up against him again. In wonder, Jensen let his hand sink into the soft white fur of Wolf’s neck. Wolf sat on his haunches and tipped his head to the moon and howled. Jensen stood there a moment and then tipped his own head back and howled with him. He dropped to his knees in the snow and buried his face in Wolf’s ruff and cried. When the flood of tears eventually ended Jensen looked up into Wolf’s eyes and smiled shakily.

“It’s good to have you back, boy.”

Wolf smiled a wolfy smile and licked his face.

Jensen woke up with something wrapped tightly around him. For a moment he thought it was Wolf, then he realized it was his blanket, Wolf chuckled at his confusion and licked his face again.

 

Even with Wolf’s acceptance and stronger presence in his mind, Jensen was still struggling. In spite of his best efforts, he was losing weight, he couldn’t sleep, and the nightmares were getting worse. After a night of restless sleep he had finally dozed off, only to wake early, before dawn.

He lay there, gazing silently at Jared as his mate snuffled adorably in his sleep, his shaggy head burrowed deep into the pillows. Jensen couldn’t resist reaching out to push shaggy locks back from Jared’s brow, hungry to see his mate's face more clearly. Ignoring the shriek of ‘wrong!’ that touching Jared sent through his bones, he let his fingers trace lightly over his Jared’s sharp cheekbones, drifting down the flat planes of his cheeks to linger briefly at the corner of his mouth, where dimples were known to strike like summer lightning, then moved on to briefly trace over Jared’s lips, before reluctantly pulling back to watch his mate sleep.

Jensen debated going back to sleep himself. Although his ravaged body needed the rest, he had lost so much time to sleep these past weeks, he wanted to savor this. Yawning, he stretched carefully, rolling his shoulders, then, because after days of careful, shallow breathing, he could, now, he took a full, deep breath. He could scent Jared’s heat building, the spicy scent like a shard of glass going through him, growing stronger, only a few days away at most.

Jared would say that the Goddess in her infinite wisdom had granted them a reprieve after the terrible occurrence at the Soams’ farm, and Jared’s impending heat at the time had taken a hiatus. Whatever the reason, now as they both healed, Jared’s body’s natural rhythm was reasserting itself. Much as he had been looking forward to Jared’s second heat, right now Jensen wasn’t sure if he would even be able to mate with Jared. Besides their damaged bond, every time his cock twitched in reaction to Jared’s strengthening scent, Foldbrook’s face appeared before his mind's eye.

Nudged by the insistent call of his bladder, Jensen threw off his dark thoughts, eased his legs to the side of the bed, and rose to sitting. Keeping a firm grip on the bedcovers, he stood, quickly reaching to the wall for balance as vertigo set in. He glanced hastily back at Jared to make sure he hadn’t disturbed his mate's sleep, then steadied himself in preparation for the journey. Carefully staying near the walls for support, he made his way to the bathroom, and eased the door shut behind him. It wasn’t like going to the moon, but the elation Jensen felt after his successful mission fueled the rest of his ablutions.

Strength played out for the moment, he rested on the toilet to regain his breath, and found himself gazing longingly at the shower cubicle. Jared, worried he'd pass out, hadn’t let him shower alone since his ‘kidnap.’ Though Jensen craved a shower, the cleansing rush of hard pounding spray on his skin, he hated the excuses he had to give his mate. Sneaking in now and having one on his own would certainly beat worrying Jared, as he still cringed each time his mate brought the soapy cloth to his body. Jensen couldn't help gritting his teeth at the jarring static that zinged through him when there was any physical contact between them.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. If he was going to make an attempt at doing for himself, he’d go all in. Smiling grimly, Jensen turned on the water in the shower. The on demand water heater he’d installed when he renovated took a moment to get up to temperature, but once it was flowing, he could shower as long as he wanted in continuous warmth. Stepping in under the hot spray, he let out a low moan as the warm water coursed over his whole body at once. Grabbing the soap, he lathered up and ran the washcloth over his face and chest, invigorated by this small step towards independence. His excitement dimmed somewhat when he washed over his shoulder where Jared’s mating mark used to be. The doc had tried to explain it, and on an intellectual level Jensen understood, but on an instinctual level he and his wolf keened with the loss of his mate’s mark.

In his insane quest for revenge, Foldbrook had done the unthinkable in trying to mate an alpha. Placing his own mating bite over Jared’s had triggered a massive war between Jensen’s alpha cells and Foldbrook’s, and the resulting fever and infection had been a greater threat to Jensen’s life than any of the other physical wounds Foldbrook had inflicted. Williams forcing him to shift had given Jensen's body the lifesaving chance to reset, expelling Foldbrook’s alpha taint and, by way of association, Jared’s mark from his body — but not before it did the damage to their bond. It didn’t mean he and Jared weren’t mated. A bonding didn’t require an omega to mark their alpha, but for Jensen, the loss of Jared’s mark on his skin was palpable, like some vital link to his mate was missing. He ached with that loss. The bond, like Jensen’s ability to accept his mate’s touch, were all supposed to heal, eventually. It was just a matter of time. Jensen feared the damage might run deeper than that.

Hurriedly scrubbing over the now baby smooth flesh, he tried not to think of Foldbrook’s hands on his body, his bruising touch on his skin, claws digging into his flanks as he hung there, powerless. Helpless to stop the sudden onslaught, memories of Foldbrook’s brutality crashed over him in wave after wave of wretched detail. Shivering in reaction, his gut revolted and spewed what little food and drink Jared had been able to coax into him earlier this evening onto the shower wall. Gagging and sputtering, Jensen’s gut continued to heave and roil until he was spitting up nothing but bitter bile.

Clinging desperately to the shower wall, he drew an unsteady breath, his legs trembling, only a hair's breadth away from crashing to the shower floor and losing what control he'd fought so far to regain. He wanted to howl in his utter outrage and pain. Squeezing his hands into tight fists, he let his nails grow to claws, their tips digging into the tender flesh of his palms. He exhaled raggedly as the pain centered him, grounded him enough to try and regain his wits. He would not be ruled by memories of that man, that filth. Swallowing down his rage and anger and hurt, Jensen reached out, opening the bond between him and Jared, letting Jared’s calm, solid presence steady him, much as it had in that mine only weeks before. And as had happened since the day of his kidnapping, the bond cracked, separated, did not hold. A skittered, fractured dissonance rattled Jensen’s teeth and he fell to his knees on the shower floor in desolation, sobbing. Even the comfort of the smallest touch of his mating bond was now denied him by the vileness that polluted him.

Tears rolled down his cheeks and, once started, Jensen lost all control, tears turning to gasping sobs. He couldn't even howl out his pain, as the weight of guilt and pain smothered him. He could feel Foldbrook’s hands touching, him and he writhed and twisted, crying out soundlessly in horror…. _noooo_.

“Jensen, it’s me, it’s me, love. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Jared was there, crouched down behind him, gathering him up into his arms.

It was like ants, and shards of glass in his skin, Jared touching him, _wrong, bad, wrong._

“No… Jensen, no." Jared was sobbing now, too, tears rolling down the stark planes of that youthful, beautiful face. "I won’t let him drive me away. I’ve stayed away for too long. You’re _mine_ and _I’m yours_ , and that bastard isn’t going to take anything more from us. There is nothing that he did to you that could make me stop loving you. I know you don’t believe that, so I’m going to have to show you. ”

And Jared was opening the bond, the same way he had during Jensen’s forced turning, and it hurt. God, it hurt, so much, and Jensen screamed, wildly bucking and squirming in Jared’s arms as his body rejected the link.

It was like being jolted with electricity over and over again, and Jensen’s lips were bleeding where he'd bitten them raw. Jared held him, resolute and implacable. “You’re mine, Jensen. I’m not letting you go,” He whispered in Jensen’s ear as strong arms squeezed tighter around Jensen.

It was so hard to breathe that Jensen’s chest started to ache. He was gasping and shaking, black spots on the edge of his vision as vicious claws continued to shred his skin everywhere he was touching Jared. His wolf howled and leapt, flinging itself into the bond, teeth snapping and gouging at the lone wolf at the center of the light.

And then suddenly Jared’s teeth were biting down, canines scraping across the flesh of Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen cried out, more in shock than in pain, and he stiffened in anticipation of the bite. But Jared _didn't_ bite, his teeth retracted and he mouthed over the mark, sucking at the smooth flesh. And where there should be pain and dissonance, suddenly there was none, Jared’s hold on him was somehow mending the rift between them, soothing what had been broken since the shift.

Jensen slumped in Jared’s hold, not in an attempt to escape, but in relief, as all the bile and evil seemed to be sucked away through Jared’s tender lips. And then, Jensen was sobbing again, great aching wails, gasping and sputtering as the water from the shower continued to fall, filling his mouth while his body tried to shake itself out of its skin. He blinked up at the ceiling, blindly, expecting that he might shake apart, but Jared was still holding him tight together. And slowly, slowly the shaking stopped, and Jared’s lips released him. Jensen shuddered as the soft press of them against his skin pulled away, but Jared’s tongue returned, laving over the spot where his mark used to be, and still connecting them somehow. And for the first time since waking up and staring into the stricken face of his mate in that God forsaken tunnel, Jared’s touch brought no pain.

Taking a deep breath, Jensen closed his eyes, reveling in the bond as a continuous stream of goodness and acceptance, affection, and love washed over him. He knew Jared was watching, his fox eyes dark with concern, and Jensen’s breath hitched. His hand scrubbed uselessly at the tears still streaming from his eyes under the shower's spray. But that didn’t matter, all that mattered was Jared.

And this time when he smelled the scent of Jared’s oncoming heat, instead of ants on his skin, Jensen's cock fattened in response. Jared hummed in approval, his matching desire reading loud and clear through the bond. He plucked the washcloth that somehow Jensen had kept hold of all this time out of his hands, and reached for the liquid soap.

Jensen’s eyes went wide and he whimpered partly in dread and partly desire, as Jared’s large hand wrapped around his cock, running along his flaccid length and over the head of his blunt helmet head in a wet, slick slide.

Jensen closed his eyes, determined. This had used to feel good, natural between them. Now his own body was like a foreign country beyond his control. Desperate to take back both his body and his pleasure from Foldbrook’s taint, he focused on Jared, concentrating on the touch of Jared’s hand as he stroked him.

“I've got you, Jen. I've got you now, and I’m never letting go.” Jared’s voice whispered in his ear as he continued to strip Jensen’s cock, rubbing at the tender nerves under the head until pleasure began to pool in his gut. Jensen exhaled raggedly, and forced himself to relax into the touch.

When Jared slipped his other hand around to tease Jensen’s hole, Jensen lurched in dread. “Want this, so much. Want you. You okay with that?” Jared’s voice was liquid velvet soothing his dark fears. Forcing his breathing to calm he brushed away the tears trickling down his cheeks. Foldbrook had been the last person inside him, but all Foldbrook had done was hurt and take. Jensen didn’t want the last person to ever touch him to be that man. Pushing back the fear, he focused on how good Jared always made him feel. He had wanted this once, wanted to be Jared’s as much as Jared was his. He nodded mutely and threw his head back on Jared’s shoulder, rolling it from side to side as Jared’s finger slowly slid inside, pushing gently in and out between the tight muscle. Pleasure flickered, and slowly, slowly under Jared’s hooded gaze, that flicker sparked hot and bright.

Jensen’s jaw was clenched, his teeth on display. He could see the gleam of determination in Jared’s eyes as he eased another finger inside Jensen and started to scissor him open. Jensen’s cock twitched, pushing up hard against his belly, hard and leaking as stream after stream of precome washed away by the shower's steady flow.

Jared began thrusting in deeper, and deeper, sliding first one, then two thick lotion slick fingers inside Jensen’s channel in counterpoint to each tug of his hand on Jensen's cock. By the time all three fingers were buried to the knuckle inside Jensen’s tight hole, Jared was nudging against the swollen bump of his prostate on every pass. Jensen keened, pleasure bright and beautiful, sparking so hot, so bright, that suddenly he couldn’t hold on any longer, and with a strangled cry, Jensen tossed back his head and came.

Shuddering and quaking in the aftermath of his orgasm, under the shower's purifying flow, Jensen nestled his head back against Jared’s shoulder. When he finally could lift his head, he gazed wearily down at his half-hard cock still cradled in Jared’s hand, all evidence of his pleasure washed away by the shower's insistent patter.

Finally growing cramped by his position, Jared helped him unfold from the shower floor, settling him on the closed toilet lid as he carefully dried his mate with soft towels. Jared's hands on Jensen’s body no longer caused distress, only pleasure, and the odd twinge of pain where healing muscles complained. Jensen's mate was beautiful like this, kneeling in concentration before him. He’d caught his own drying hair up in a ‘Samurai knot,’ and he looked to Jensen every inch the warrior king, the Joxum to his Tane. Jared’s large, gentle hands continued to move over him, patting and rubbing him dry until Jensen was pink and glowing.

“Come.” Jared stretched out his hand, and Jensen gratefully accepted. “We’re not done yet,” Jared’s voice teased against his skin, and Jensen trembled, not in fear, but in desire. The bronzed fingers tightened on his pinker freckled flesh, and he was urged to his feet. Jared's features wore a dogged look of determination as he led Jensen back into the bedroom.

As they crossed the room together hand in hand, a flash of silver caught Jensen’s eye. He paused in front of their open closet door and turned, the light glinting off the silver on his hip reflected in the long mirror.

Of all the wounds that Foldbrook had inflicted on him, this was the only one that remained…the silver brand of his own marshal's star. By some accidental fortune, the brand was neither messy nor vague, but a perfectly formed star within a circle. The only oddity was the scattering of silver droplets that trailed down his thigh like the tail of a comet, where the excess silver had splashed and fallen off Foldbrook’s makeshift brand, to fuse in Jensen’s flesh.

He wondered if it was odd that he found it strangely appropriate. He was a were, but a part of him would always remain a marshal. Somehow, Foldbrook’s brand…no, Jensen’s star, merged the two parts of his life together, despite Jensen's struggle with it. The results were breathtaking.

It was surprising, but it didn’t hurt like he would have expected. The heat of the burning brand had seared away the nerve endings, and the resulting scar tissue that merged with the silver had no feeling. The skin around the mark was surprisingly normal, it was only the mark that was numb. Curious, Jensen let his hand glide over the shiny surface of the brand. Unprotected, his fingers burned from the contact. He wondered how it would look when he shifted, if he’d be mistaken for one of the ‘Shunned,’ now. He’d have to ask Jared.

“It’s beautiful.” Jared’s voice caused him to startle. Eyes up, Jensen saw Jared behind him, watching in the mirror, pupils blow dark with arousal. Self-consciously, Jensen let his hands fall to his side, obscuring the mark.

Jared shook his head, and taking Jensen by the shoulders, he leaned in and kissed him on his the spot where his mating mark had been. His voice rumbled against the smooth skin, “I can’t quite believe that out of something so ugly, you could end up with something so beautiful. Though I admit, it gives 'staying on your good side’ a whole new meaning.” Jared smiled, his wide, sensuous mouth curling up at the corners in a predatory way as he stared into the mirror at Jensen.

“You don’t think I’ll be mistaken for ‘Shunned’?” suddenly blurted out, the words tumbling out gruff after his prolonged silence.

Jared shook his head, “No, the sigil on that brand is an ancient were icon for ‘unworthy of pack’. No pack would mistake your star for that.” Jared’s fingertips danced lightly along the edges of Jensen’s brand, sending a delicious shiver up Jensen’s spine.

Jared stretched lazily and tugged on his hand. “But as pretty as your star is, Marshal, I want you back in bed. I have plans for you.” Jared’s voice was a soft growl.

They settled on the foot of the bed, side by side. Jared’s large hand touched Jensen’s forehead and cheek, checking for fever. Jared stared at him, assessing, before finally speaking.

“I want to fuck you.” Jared stated quietly, “I want to fuck you and mark you and make you mine again, as I am yours. I will not lose you to him. I want you back”

Jensen stared at him wide eyed, “Jared…”

Impatiently, Jared licked his lips, his whole body tense. “I know I’m omega, but I’m also a man. I want you back.”

“The things he did to me Jay, the awful, terrible things, you can’t possibly…”

Jared grasped Jensen’s hands in his lap and squeezed gently, staring searchingly into his face before speaking. “None of it, and I mean none of it matters to me. How could you possibly think it would? I want you back, and I think the only way to get you back is to take you, prove that there is nothing about you that I don’t love. That there is nowhere he has touched that will make me love you less.” Blinking against the sudden moisture that appeared in the corner of his eyes, Jared forced himself to continue, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I need to touch you in all the places Foldbrook violated. I need to wipe away his memory from your body as well as your soul. I need to prove to you that you are the mate I deserve”

Jensen recoiled, his hand jerking in Jared’s hold, but Jared hung on. “… I…I only wish I could have gotten to you in time. Not because he touched you, but to save you from all this pain and self hatred I can feel through the bond. I am so sorry.” He bowed his head in misery.

“It’s not your fault, it’s no one’s fault but his.” Jensen squeezed Jared’s hand tighter and bent to kiss the knuckles. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You saved my life. And you’re right, I need to expel him from my thoughts, from my life. And you’re also right, that I don’t want my last memory of being fucked to be by him. I want it to be with love and care by my mate.”

Jared stared into Jensen’s eyes, suddenly uncertain, “You know I–I’ve never…”

Jensen ran the knuckles of his hand along his mate’s face, brushing away the lone tear on Jared’s cheek. “All the better.”

A blush spread across Jared’s face, before he growled in triumph and, grabbing Jensen, pushed them both down onto the bed, their two mouths meeting in a frenzy of teeth and tongues tangling and dancing in a mad desperate greedy rush. When they broke apart, Jared was panting, his cock already hard between them, pressing thick and heavy on Jensen’s belly. Jensen’s own cock was fattening as well, at the idea of Jared’s claiming.

Jared’s voice was rough with arousal when he finally managed to push himself to his elbows and speak. “Roll over, Jen…”

Laughter bubbled up out of Jensen bright and infectious, and he pulled Jared down for another soul destroying kiss before answering.

This time it was Jensen’s voice that was breathy and hoarse. “Our wolves may like it that way, but for this first time, I can’t bear to not see your face.” Chuckling at Jared's hungry expression, Jensen wriggled higher up on the bed and reached for a pillow. Stuffing it under his ass to prop up his hips, he rumbled, “Com'ere, darlin’.” Jensen’s eyelids slid to half mast as he tucked his heels back until they were under the cheeks of his ass, to make more room for his lover.

Jared loomed large over him, his massive hand splayed possessively over Jensen’s leg as he eased between his spread thighs. Jared’s hard cock jutted proud between them, smearing precome on Jensen’s thighs as he positioned himself against his body. Leaning down, Jared bit at his lip nervously before offering up, “I need to prep you, first.”

 

Jensen could hear his jackhammering heart. It was the first time a lover had ever made Jensen, at six foot one, feel small and vulnerable, spread out beneath him. “My top drawer.” Jensen wriggled his hips as he watched his mate from beneath lowered lashes, arousal heating his blood.

Jared snapped open the bottle and sniffed it, nose wrinkling in surprise. The sweet scent of bubble gum filled the air and Jared rolled his eyes, a smirk tilting the corners of his lips as he carefully slicked himself up.

Jensen’s teeth worried at his bottom lip as he watched as his mate, in tantalizingly slow strokes, covering himself liberally with lube. Heat coiled in Jensen’s belly and his own cock filled, bobbing, heavy and weeping, between them. Finally satisfied, Jared released his dick with a lewd squelch, and eyed Jensen, his pupils dark with desire. With a determined tilt to his jaw, Jared ran his hands possessively along Jensen’s spread knees. He slid his hands down, taking Jensen’s cock in one of his massive paws, and jacked it lightly.

“Such a pretty cock,” Jared growled, before bending down.

Jensen squeaked in surprise as Jared took the head of Jensen’s cock into his mouth. His whole body arched up as Jared's tongue laved around the broad head several times, before dipping under to rub along the bundle of nerves under the crown.

His hips held in place by Jared’s large hand, Jensen’s hands twitched madly, desperate to touch, to anchor himself in the sea of delicious sensation Jared was creating. He buried his hands in Jared’s hair, groaning as his fingers slid through the silky strands.

His mouth full of Jensen’s cock, Jared looked up at him from beneath dark lashes, and growled. The vibrations skittered along Jensen’s nerves and he cried out. Jensen clenched the sides of Jared’s head like a dying man, keening, “Oh God.”

Even with Jared's mouth stuffed as it was with cock, Jensen could see the smile curling the edges of his mate's mouth. Jared gently pried Jensen’s hands from his hair, pressing them down on the bed on either side of Jensen’s body and started to bob up and down Jensen’s length. Jensen tossed his head from side to side, gasping out, “Jay, so close, I’m gonna…”

Before Jensen could come, Jared was pulling away, a mischievous grin on his face. He released Jensen's spit slick cock from his reddened lips with a slick plop. Blood filled and wet, it stood heavy between them, bobbing with Jensen's pulse. Jensen whimpered, teeth worrying at his lips to stop the pleas on the tip of his tongue.

Jared leaned back, smiling in approval. The rising sun cast his body in silhouette, making a glowing gold nimbus of his hair. His vulpine features in shadow, he looked every inch the powerful predator as he surveyed Jensen critically. “Good boy.” And instead of moving on to the main event he grinned impishly and said, “Now, let’s start with your freckles, shall we?”

“You’re going to be merciless about this, aren’t you?” Jensen huffed breathlessly.

Jared’s enigmatic smile was his only response before he started to press small butterfly kisses across the bridge of Jensen’s nose, his thumbs stroking softly over stubble and freckles, warm tongue laving and kissing each spot lovingly. Taking Jensen’s nipples between his broad fingers, he rolled them between thumbs and fingers as he licked and nipped his way slowly along first one collarbone and then the other. Jensen shivered when Jared paused over where his mating mark had been, but Jared only mouthed over the spot lovingly, pressing a solemn kiss to the smooth flesh before moving on.

A hot, heavy flush spread across Jensen’s face and chest, even the tips of his ears began to burn with arousal, as Jared continued with his slow, loving exploration of Jensen’s body. Jensen’s cock twitched hungrily, pre-come oozing steadily from the tip as Jared started to tug on his nipples in a synchronized rhythm, pinching and twisting just hard enough to drag a broken moan from Jensen as he lay beneath him. Releasing one hot, tight bud, Jared’s tongue licked teasingly over it, then settling his whole mouth on the sensitive morsel and grazing it briefly with his teeth, before he began to gently suck.

Jensen keened, his voice faint as a maelstrom of emotions swirled around him. Jared suckled contentedly as he continued to twist and pull at the other nipple. When he switched his attentions to the other side, Jensen moaned low and heavy, as hard fingers clamped down on his wet swollen bud as the other was laved with Jared’s full focus. When Jared’s mouth released Jensen’s second nipple, his chest arched up in a pitiful attempt to follow Jared’s mouth, before sagging back onto the bed with a soft whimper.

Jared chuckled, giving one nipple a quick tweak as a thin lipped smile crossed his face. Dragging the edge of his teeth across the line of Jensen’s jaw, he growled “Mine.” Jensen swallowed thickly, his throat swelling, before nodding mutely in agreement.

Shifting his attention downward, Jared’s hand circled Jensen’s rock hard cock while the other cradled Jensen’s sack, rolling his balls, massaging them gently in his large hand. Jensen groaned, tossing his head back and forth in the pillows and cursing under his breath. Then with another obscene squelch and whiff of bubble gum Jared lubed up his fingers. His hand was poised at Jensen’s entrance, his slick covered thumb circling Jensen’s quivering entrance again and again.

Jensen gritted his teeth and tried not to shy away. Jared paused instantly.

“It’s okay, it’s all right,” Jensen gasped, forcing himself to relax. He could do this. Jared nodded before letting one lube slick finger slip inside Jensen’s already loosened hole. He stripped Jensen’s cock gently as first one, then two, and finally, three fingers were able to glide in easily. Jared smiled at Jensen’s bitten off moan as he twisted and crooked fingers inside him, and Jensen thrust back against Jared’s movements.

Sweaty, with shaking hands, Jared spread Jensen’s legs farther. Jensen swallowed in anticipation. “Do it, fuck me,” Jensen urged.

“I don’t want to hurt you…” Jared whispered.

“Nngh, you could never hurt me, love.” And Jensen grasped Jared’s cock, thick and angry red, and guided it unerringly to his entrance.

Letting out a soft huff of breath, and with a determined nod, Jared began to work his hips, pushing in against the tight muscle, slowly nudging his cock inside Jensen inch by inch, until it seemed like Jensen could feel him in his throat. Finally buried deep inside him, Jared let out a shaky laugh, grinding himself against Jensen’s pubic bone as he bottomed out. “Feel so fucking good around me… I knew you would.”

Jensen’s own erection had softened as Jared had slowly worked his way inside. Jensen had tried to hide his trepidation as lingering memories of Foldbrook threatened to spoil the moment. The sense of fullness was uncomfortable and a bit overwhelming, once Jared was finally buried deep inside. Eyes squeezed tight, Jensen gasped, and Jared went completely still. Impaled and spread open, he could feel Jared everywhere, too much, too tight, overwhelming him, and Jensen fought back against the urge to strike out, scream. His claws lengthened as Wolf whined, trying to pull him back from the edge of panic.

And suddenly, Jared’s arms were wrapped around him, his mate’s concerned eyes staring into his, leaning down whispering in his ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Jensen, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just gonna wait until you say it’s good to move. Stay with me now, concentrate on how good it feels, because it does, right?”

With his mate’s worried voice in his ear, Jensen was able to calm himself. Slowly, he was able to relax, the sense of overwhelming fullness receding to something good. He flexed tentatively and Jared was right, there was no pain, only fullness and the beginnings of pleasure.

When his eyes opened, he found Jared hovering over him. His mate’s eyes were filled with concern, sweat pouring from his face, muscles tight and straining with the effort not to move, to not push further inside Jensen.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Jensen smiled, his hands catching at Jared's shoulders to pull him down into a kiss. “Dear God, keep going.”

"You sure?" Jared pulled back, tossed his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes, his voice a rough growl, “Are you sure? I’m not hurting you?”

Jensen groaned, his lips sucking against the hollow of Jared’s throat as he wrapped his legs around Jared’s ass and pulled, his heels urging his mate on. “Yeah, God - yeah.”

“Yeah….” Jared murmured as he tentatively pulled back, slotting back inside almost immediately, moving slowly at first, so slowly it made Jensen want to scream out. As his body relaxed, Jensen gasped and looked up at Jared, his mate’s face a study in concentration as he moved over him. And it was so much better and so much more than he’d even hoped, Jared filling him completely, erasing, at least for the moment, any trace of Foldbrook from his thoughts, as well as his body. Even without a knot, Jared was huge. Jensen tipped his hips to meet his mate's strokes.

Jensen moaned, his cock gradually hardening again, spurting dribbles of precome between them. Mindful of his mate’s tiniest reaction, Jared adjusted his angle until he was able to light Jensen up with every thrust.

It was good, far better than Jensen had ever expected. He knew he wouldn’t be able to come this way, but watching Jared’s blissed out face was more than enough for him.

“Mphf,” Jared groaned, jaw clenched and teeth on display, his motions more and more erratic as his orgasm grew closer.

When Jared’s hand tried to reach for him, Jensen gently pushed it aside with a softly growled, “M’kay. I’m good.” His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Jensen made a bold move, flexing his hips, his body clenching tightly around Jared’s shaft.

Jared gasped, his eyes going wide as his cock surged inside Jensen. The strength of his orgasm took him by obvious surprise as he came deep inside Jensen’s body. Jensen’s eyes fluttered closed as Jared surged inside him, but a sudden pain at the dip of his shoulder had them snapping open. He watched, stunned, as Jared’s teeth sank into the smooth flesh of his neck in an almost orgasmic penetration.

Jared’s teeth held him like that for a long moment, renewing his mark, as blood from the wound trickled down Jensen’s shoulder. A sudden rushing sound filled Jensen’s ears and the room spun sickeningly, just before the bond between them slammed open. Emotions surged between them, roiling and ebbing, back and forth in a dizzying stream for the first time in weeks. Blinded by the sheer strength of the emotions, Jensen could do little more than surrender meekly to all the love and acceptance showered upon him in Jared sized proportions. Jared’s acceptance and support wrapped around his wounded soul like a healing balm, and Jensen’s wolf howled in approval.

Hours, minutes later, Jensen could feel Jared’s lips break into a smile as he continued to rock lazily in and out of him. Eventually, his cock softened, and Jared slipped almost shyly from Jensen’s body, his canines retracting at the same time. With a sated groan, Jared rolled onto his back, a dopey, fucked out look on his face. Glancing down at Jensen’s still hard cock, he blinked and flushed a dark crimson, “Sorry, I…”

“You were perfect, love. I was just waiting for you.” Chuckling softly, Jensen hopped up and straddled Jared’s body. “Now, my turn.” He whispered, his cock rubbing along Jared’s sweat-slick belly. Jared’s eyes widened and his mate licked his lips, spreading his legs wide in welcome. Jensen’s hands fondled Jared’s spent member, gently rubbing his fingers along the lube and seed-slick length, humming in appreciation of its heft and girth, even while flaccid. Jared’s eyebrows shot up when his cock twitched in Jensen’s hand in renewed interest.

“Think you can go again?” Jensen murmured, as he slipped down between Jared’s spread knees. At Jared’s jerky nod, Jensen reached to run his fingers gently along Jared’s crease. His mate’s hole was slick and dripping with arousal and Jensen wasted no time grasping his now fuck hard cock and nudging at Jared’s entrance. Jensen’s cock slid easily inside his lover in one long smooth stroke, his hand on Jared's chest for balance.

"You with me?" Jensen cooed, his cock fully encased in Jared’s warm fucked out body. He could feel Jared’s seed slowly trickling out of his own entrance, and over his balls. He savored the wicked taste of possessiveness as Jared’s seed took on Jensen’s own scent.

Jared inhaled raggedly, catching the scent. His pupils lust blown with need, he nodded, swiveling his hips enticingly, his eyelids falling to half mast to watch Jensen through blue-green slits.

“You look like the cat that got the canary. Care to share?” Jensen grinned and started to thrust slowly in and out of his mate.

Jared’s lips broadened in a satisfied smile, “Thought you were going to fuck me, not talk me to death.”

With a growl of mock outrage, Jensen swooped down to catch his mate’s lips with his own, silencing him with a quick kiss as he began to piston in and out of him. Jensen’s knot swelled quickly. Jared began to moan, thrashing his head back and forth on the pillows, his hips greedily snapping up to meet Jensen’s thrusts as the knot brushed against Jared's prostate again and again. Jensen glanced down, and Jared’s cock was hard again and leaking against his belly. With his knot already starting to catch at Jared’s rim, Jensen knew he wasn’t going to last long. Burying himself deep in his mate’s channel, he curled his hand around the rigid, dripping length of Jared’s cock, and jerked it in quick, dirty strokes. A fierce grin filled Jensen’s face when, with a surprised shout, Jared spasmed, clutching and tightening around him like a vise.

With a matching cry of his own, Jensen’s knot quivered and he started to come almost instantly, jetting deep inside Jared’s body, hot and hard. Joining them was Wolf’s howl of triumph as Jensen finally re-claimed his mate and the sense that rightness had returned between them.

They lay there panting in each other’s arms, fucked out and boneless, Jensen lying heavy and hot on top of Jared. Forcing himself to stir, Jensen rolled them both, still joined, to their sides.

They lay there, in a blissed out fugue, gazing into each other’s eyes, their bond buzzing with emotion. For the first time in weeks, Jensen felt warm and replete as his knot continued to pulse deep inside Jared. Jared smiled and leaned in to kiss him, long and slow. “I love you, you know. Always have, always will.”

“I know. I think I always knew. And I love you.” Jensen watched Jared’s eyes track to his shoulder and if the look of possessive pride in them wasn’t enough, the dull burn was a welcome reminder. He turned, angling his face down to take in the mark, his new mating mark. He smiled and was surprised to feel moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Jared smiled too, and kissed the tip of his nose, and the side of his face nearest him, before murmuring against Jensen’s plush mouth, “So, we’re good?”

Jensen nodded, his heart swelling with love, and more than love, a sense of belonging to himself, to his wolf, and most of all, to his mate. He knew he still had a lot more work to get things right in his head, that a mind blowing fuck wouldn’t just make it all better, but it was a start, it was a hell of a start. He pulled Jared in closer for another kiss. Mouth open and sloppy, he whispered, “We’re more than good.” And he meant every word. 

FIN

 


	19. The Forge — A Teaser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And here for your enjoyment a teaser, in the works, the final installment in the Iron Ridge Pack saga._

Brooding, eyes watched as Jensen, back in his Marshal uniform, and a tall omega in a green silk robe walked out onto the porch of the old farmhouse. Jensen pulled the omega in to a long, protracted kiss before finally releasing him and climbing into his truck and driving off to work.

His fingers tightened on the binoculars and his wolf whined, howling in outrage, at the tall, floppy haired whore who continued to stand on the porch as Jensen drove away. How dare he touch his property? Snarling he jammed his binoculars back in their case and considered his options. He had been so close, Jensen had been in his hands, marked, his property and then somehow managed to get away. He wouldn’t underestimate his mate again.

Getting into his own car, he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and considered next steps. With his base of operations gone, it might be time to retreat for the moment, and maybe gather additional support. A smile started to fill his face as he considered his options. Nodding to himself, he turned the key in the ignition. Mood considerably lightened, he whistled happily as he drove his beat up Ford down the old dirt logging road the short drive to where it joined with the main road.

Jensen was his, it was only a matter of time before he had him back under his control. Soon everything would be perfect.

 

 

 

Comments Immensely appreciated no matter when you read this story. ^^  
[Master Post](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/94567.html) | | [**Art Post — go give my artist some love!**](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/480496.html)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : : :  
>    
> **Author's Notes:**  
>  Just wanted to send out a **big thank you** to [](http://wendy.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wendy.livejournal.com/)**wendy** for running the big show and for being so accomodating with my posting date. Life has been conspiring against me this summer. But the later posting date was a definite boon! * bows * it made it possible for me to stay in the game. Much heartfelt thanks my dear!  
>   
>  **And look at my art!** Just look at my terrific art by the lovely [](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/profile)[**liliaeth**](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/) who took time out of her fic writing to do art for the Big Bang not once, but twice this year. So run on over to her [](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/480496.html)**art post** and give her some love. I think her Jared and Jensen suit my story to a T! Thank you my dear!  
>   
>  And then there were **my two amazing beta's** : [](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/profile)[**fufaraw**](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/) and [](http://maryjo24.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://maryjo24.livejournal.com/)**maryjo24** I worked you both like borrowed mules, but you shone like stars. Thanks you so much. You put the polish on this baby and I am so appreciate all your hard work. Mwah! ♥♥ We did it ladies!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> **Fic writers work for comments and I'd like to at least make minimum wage** : ) so if you liked the story and would like to read a sequel let me know.


End file.
